Fix me
by kittiesrock90210
Summary: I could tell the psychiatrist the truth; that seems like what everyone wants from me lately.  Everyone wants to know what happened to me, how fell so far.  I used to be perfect. *No wings* Minor Mylan, some Miggy, Fax later. R&R?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey.**

**I haven't updated any of my other stories lately... uhh sorry about that but it's because I have this new one. This is an AN AU fic and it's OOC character a lot of the time. And there's cussing so sensitive ones, beware! There's some fax, some Miggy, and a little bit of Mylan... wow Max really get's around in this story. Hope you enjoy.**

**Let me disclaim: I do not own anything related to Maximum Ride because I am not an old guy.**

**Highlight of the Day: Today I dad a super soaker fight with my brother in the backyard pretending we were in a legit COD game. Too much fun.**

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><p>The ticking of the analog clock on the wall is the only sound in the waiting room. An untouched stack of teen fashion magazines are on my left—the receptionist brought them for me while I am waiting—and <em>Wheel of Fortune<em> is muted on the flat screen against the wall. I slouch down in my chair, hoodie pulled up over my head—I'm trying to hide the fact I haven't brushed my hair for the past two days—and absentmindedly count the ticks of the clock. One, Two, Three, Four—

"Dr. Wyatt is ready to see you," The receptionist brings me out of my trance. I reluctantly get out of my seat, smoothing my crumpled sweat pants out—I had pulled them off of my bedroom floor today-before following the receptionist to room B14. "Dr. Wyatt will be with you in a moment."

She unlocks and opens the door for me and gestures for me to sit down on the velvet red couch with a pillow at the end. I roll my eyes as I sat down on the couch. Could these people get more stereotypical? I prop my muddy sneakers on the spotless glass table, smearing dirt everywhere. I didn't want to be here, so why did they send me? How could my family betray me like this? It's all I can think for the entire ten minutes it takes for the "doctor" to show up.

A slim lady, possibly in her thirties comes over and sits in the chair about three yards from the couch where I am. She has long, blonde hair and big green eyes. She's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. Deceptively welcoming. "Hello Max, how are you today?"

Her voice is soothing, but it isn't fooling me. I scoff. "Just dandy. This is exactly how I like to spend my Saturdays."

I'm hoping to crush her spirits so she'll just give up on me and then put me on some dumb prescription drugs that I will never take so I can just go home. But she just smirks.

"I've been doing teenage psychiatry for a while, Max. You're going to have to do better than that," She smirks.

"Oh don't worry, that was just the pre-warm up," I shoot back, glaring at her. "Here, how about a deal? You tell my mom I'm okay and I go home. That way you don't have to put up with me and I don't have to be here. I'd say that's pretty fair."

Dr. Wyatt laughs. "Yeah, because the world is fair? No Max, that's not how it works."

I snort. "Okay, so how does it work?"

"I ask you questions, and you answer them. You talk, I listen. You'd think you'd know what a psychiatrist is by the time you're eighteen."

I cross my arms. "And why exactly would I answer your questions?"

"Because," she pauses for a moment, "your family is concerned for you. Your mom couldn't even make it into the waiting room without crying, I was just talking to her. You wouldn't want your mom to cry, would you?"

"I guess not," I reply nonchalantly. I _hate_ it when my mom cries. It's like watching puppies burn alive.

Dr. Wyatt taps her fingers against her leg. "So tell me a bit about yourself. You know, before."

"Define 'before'?" replied half-heartedly.

She looked at a clipboard with notes. "One year ago."

I used to be a good kid. I mean, I used to be a _really_ good kid. I always got home before ten without needing a curfew, I never did something I knew my mom wouldn't agree with, and I always let her know where I was going, what I was doing, and who I was hanging out with. I got over 90% in all of my subjects and was the school counsel vice-president on the way to be the president for my senior year. Colleges already had my name noted and sports scouts were following me like coyote followed roadrunner. I looked after my sister and made sure no one ever hurt her. I took time out of my social life to focus on school and extracurricular activities. The poster child for "good kids".

"I was okay," I reply evasively.

"Did you have a lot of friends?"

I had friends, there was my sister Ella, who was one year younger than me. I had the girls on the school teams who I talked to, along with the girls at the kick-boxing gym. I had the group of people I always sat with at lunch. Old memories of eating lunch and the occasional sleepover flooded back to me, warm and fuzzy. I remember study groups where we ordered boxes of pizza and finished every last slice. There was JJ, but I don't deserve to call her my best friend. Maybe then, but not anymore.

I curl my hands into tight fists. "I had some friends."

"Your mom told me that you were pretty tightly wound," she presses on.

That is a total understatement but I shrug anyway. "I kept busy."

She looks like she wanted to continue on that, but she doesn't. Good decision on her part. "So, when did your story start?"

I can't help it, I laugh. Like full on laugh. "My story? Are you serious? What is this, a soap opera? Please. I don't have a story."

"Everyone has a story, Max," Dr. Wyatt meets my eyes evenly. "It's just that some peoples' stories are more interesting. I'm interested in hearing yours."

"It's a waste of your time, and my time," I answer nonchalantly. "It's not worth telling."

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><p>"Two more weeks till summer break. You pumped? I'm pumped."<p>

"Mmmhmm," I mumble while organizing my afternoon schedule into my daily planner, putting all my activities into the required hourly spots.

"Wow Max, did you even hear what I said? Max?"

I turn to look at her. "Yeah Jen, I did. I'm just busy today. I have to finish the stuff for my campaign, tutor, track practice, kickboxing, organise the fundraiser for the local shelter and do Prittman's essay tonight."

JJ shoots me a questioning look. "Um, Prittman's essay is due in like, seven days."

"Yeah, but I also am doing scholarship stuff. Get a jump start for college." I start to fill in my schedule for tomorrow. Angel's dance recital, coaching Gazzy's soccer team...

JJ grabs my shoulders and pulls me out to the left before I run into a garbage can. "Slow down bud. You need to look where you're going before you kill yourself."

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine. You need to stop worrying about me."

"If I wasn't here to take care of you, you'd go crazy and you know it," she gives me that 'I know everything' stare she uses so frequently, causing me to scowl. But then she has to spoil the moment by sending me her "genuinely concerned" face and I know what she's about to bring up.

"JJ, just drop it. I don't want to talk about _that_." I answer in the coldest tone I can muster.

"Max, I only want the best for you," J.J. lowers her voice so that no one else can hear us, even though the halls are basically empty. She would have to ruin a perfectly good day by bringing that up. Or at least implying it because she knows I don't want to talk about it.

"Shut up." It's icy cold as it leaves my mouth. JJ freezes up as she identifies the bitchiest, coldest tone my voice can create.

"I'll support you no matter what Max, it's just you have me worried about you."

"Don't," I retort "I don't need you to do that for me, I can handle it myself."

She sighs. "You need me to be there for you, like you for me. I know you'll always be there when I need you."

"Of course," I answer.

I didn't realize then that I was lying.

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><p>A thousand painful memories rush through me, but I shut them down. I swallow down hard.<p>

"I think your story is worth telling. So go ahead, from the start."

I think it out perfectly before I answer. "When I was little, I was always smiled upon by adults. I was naturally athletic and I was lovable and I was one of those children who hardly caused problems and I always looked after my sister and stuff. Everyone was always just so proud of me, and parents always told me that they were so proud to have a daughter like me. I was the best at everything in my kindergarten class, and although I wasn't always the best at making friends back then, I still felt like I fit in somehow because I was the exceptional one and people loved me, or at least excepted me for that. I had a place in the world. My parents always told me I was perfect, and that's what I always wanted to be. What I always _was._"

Dr. Wyatt tapped her fingers against her clipboard. "Why did you want to be perfect?"

"I don't know." But that was a lie. I wanted to be perfect so people would love me. I wanted to be perfect because perfect people never make mistakes. Perfect people are always admired. I wanted to be perfect because no one could argue with that. I wanted to be perfect because it was the best thing anyone could ever be.

I wanted to be perfect because it was the one thing I _couldn't_ be.

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><p><strong>Kind of short, but that's cuz it the first chapter. I promis longer chapters in the future. Hope you liked, R&amp;R?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey**

**Thanks for the reviews and all the story alerts and favourites. They made my exam week ttttthiiisssss much better. **

**Highlight of the day: Running through the pouring rain without shoes and without a jacket so I wouldn't be late for piano lessons. **

"So you were Miss Perfect," Dr. Wyatt mused, "How exactly did that affect you at school?"

"I had a reputation," I answered, "You know, everyone had an identifier. Mark Angelo was known for selling the best drugs. Tally Freedman was known for the fact that she never talked, just focused on a collection of dolls she sewed everyday in the cafeteria. Zach Ross was known for the ability to wheel girls like a fucking Mack truck. And I was known for being perfect. Perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect athletic skills, perfect clothes and hair. I mean, I never had a hair on my head out of place."

Dr. Wyatt looks up at me. "You had a boyfriend? Who was he and what was he like?"

"His name was, and I guess it still is, Dylan. He was Mr. Perfect. We went hand in hand, like Ken and Barbie. He had one of those perfect smiles that made girls go out of their minds and gorgeous blonde hair and one of those open faces that made him look like Mr. Innocent." I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Girls wanted him and I had him wrapped around my finger, for some unknown reason. He could've gotten one of those popular girls easily."

"What was your relationship like?" The good Doctor (there's sarcasm there) continues.

"Fine, I guess," I reply vaguely.

**PAGE BREAK**

His hands are on my legs, on my hips, on my ass. I slap his hands away. "Dylan!" I hiss.

He laughs as he bends down and kisses my neck. Then across my jaw line, tugging at the edge of the plaid, blue skirt I'm required to wear as part of the uniform. I'm losing my willpower, threatening to crumble into his arms. Why does Dylan have to do this to me? He knows I won't be able to resist soon.

"Dylan, stop it," I shout whisper. "We're at school. We're going to get in trouble and I'm going to be late for class."

His gorgeous turquoise eyes reflect disappointment. It's like I told a puppy that I had to give it away. "Max, could you skip, just this once? Skipping one class isn't going to kill you. With kids missing so much school, the teacher probably won't even notice."

"Yeah he will," I insist. "I'm always in class and he'll notice if I'm gone. Plus, I have perfect attendance to hold up."

He sighs. "Of course you would have perfect attendance. What would happen if you were to ever have a tiny flaw, Maximum Perfection?"

I glare at him. "Shut up. You act like being perfect all the time is such a bad thing."

"Alright," He mumbles before sneaking in a kiss.

"Hey," I roll my eyes, "Save it for the post-exam party. I'm going over to JJ's early and she said we can use the attic bedroom."

He grins and winks at me. "Run on in to class. It doesn't even start for another three minutes, but do what you've got to do."

I smile at him, kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks Dylan."

I sit through what is possibly the most boring biology class in the world, absentmindedly jotting down review notes on osmosis and reverse osmosis, making sure all of my diagrams are perfectly drawn and labelled. A minute before the bell rang the teacher turns off the overhead (I know, you'd think that the education board could supply us with a SMART Board or something, but no) and turns towards the class. He isn't one of my favourite teachers, but it's not like I hate him either. He is actually pretty decent. He holds up a large stack of papers.

"I marked your tests. Come pick yours up. Remember your final is on next Tuesday. Don't get too wasted this weekend."

The class laughs in unison, and some of them slapped hands knowing those were their exact plans: get hammered out of their minds. I roll my eyes and go to the front of the classroom to get my test. It isn't a long walk since I sit front-row-center. I rifle through the stack, thankful that Mr. Tanyeard always keeps things in alphabetical order as I go straight to the "R" section. I pull out the test with my name neatly printed across the line and look at it in horror.

It taunts me so much, and I just keep blinking over and over only to realize that the mark isn't going to disappear. The big number that's written in red marker, bold and horrible, a large 83%. I feel frozen, my legs can't move. My eyes examine each question for any mistakes in marking but... none.

I hear the bell ring, but it is a distant thought, not even registering. Someone has their hand on my shoulder. "Yo Perfect, you okay?"

I shake off the hand, grab my backpack and walked out of the classroom so quickly that people are staring, but I don't care because I can't breathe, I feel strangled. I can't believe I did that badly on a test, I can't believe I did that badly on a test, my average is going to drop, I'm _screwed, I'm screwed. I'm suffocating_.

I rush into the girl's room and drop my bag on the floor, gripping onto the counter trying to breathe but I am struggling and it's not working, I can't breathe, my head is going to explode. My arms are shaking and my legs are about to give out, and I am hyperventilating, but I'm still not getting enough air and I'm going to suffocate.

"Shit Max!" a voice exclaims and I faintly hear the footsteps moving across the tile floor. An arm wraps itself around my shoulder. "Count to ten. Breathe deeply and slowly. You're going to be okay Max."

It's JJ. I grip onto the counter even harder, trying to slow my frantic breathing just long enough to calm down. JJ looks at me. "Max..."

"I'm alright," I snap before I could hear the words I know she would say. "That was nothing."

"Nothing?" She practically yells at me. "Max, that's your tenth panic attack in a month, and it wasn't even a bad one. You need to get some help."

"I can handle it," I grind out angrily.

She shakes her head. "Max, the thing is you can't handle it, or else you wouldn't be having panic attacks."

I push her off of me and glare at her viciously. "Shut up JJ, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Max," she says with concern lacing her words. "You're my best friend, and you need help. If you don't tell someone soon, I will. It's for your own good. You're in for a fall, and when you fall, you'll fall hard"

I snap at her and push her again. "Don't you dare tell a soul Jennifer Joy or I swear to God I'll kill you."

I only meant it as a harmless threat, I swear.

**PAGE BREAK**

"Your mother told me that she'd seen you have fits and breakdowns occasionally. When did this behaviour begin?"

I roll my eyes. "She would exaggerate that. They weren't breakdowns; just sometimes I got a little overwhelmed, but everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary."

Lie. My mind traces back to nights I spent crying in my room, all the times I just couldn't breathe, times where the slightest imperfection would make me start to throw stuff everywhere trying to be as destructive as possible.

Dr. Wyatt returns my scowl. "I don't know, so far your story seems pretty watered down."

"Whatever," I shrug. "What's next Doc?"

She looks at the notes in the file for a moment. I wonder what little tidbits she had on me, probably dumb stuff like records of suspensions or information she took from my _mom._ As if kids actually go home and tell their parents the exact things going on in their lives... ha. I always sugar coated everything. As far as my mom had been concerned back then, Dylan and I had only recently kissed, and that had been my _first._

Dr. Wyatt stops on a page. "Your mom says that you were pretty tightly wound in the exam period at the end of Grade 11."

I laugh because it's actually comedic. "Um, students are always tightly wound before exams. Fact of life. It's not like it was irregular behaviour. You're supposed to be a teen psychologist. _You_ of all people should know that."

"She also mentioned that you hadn't been talking or inviting your best friend over during that time much either, and had ignored a call or something. Was something wrong with your social life?"

I silently curse my mom's excellent memory, but I manage to keep my face impassive as I formulate a reply. "It was exams. As I said, I was tightly wound. I wanted to make sure I scored well because these were the marks that universities were chasing after. I just didn't have time to spend socially if I was going to do perfect. I knew being on the phone with my friends would get me tied up and take time away from studying."

I mentally pat myself on the back. I'm brilliant. I couldn't think of a more perfect bullshit answer.

Dr. Wyatt seems unimpressed. "And how did you end up doing on those exams?"

"Scored high nineties in all," I rattle of quickly, not wanting to focus on the marks I _used to_ get in school. Because back then I was full of shit and I had no life and I worked and worked and worked for nothing.

"High Nineties," The Doc muses, "You're a very smart girl. You had a lot of potential, so on to my next question. Why did you throw it all away?"

"I didn't throw it away," I mumble. "I happily gave it up."

"Okay," she sits up straight, fixing her shirt before continuing. "So let's talk about the beginning of your senior year. People I talked to at your school said you were a different person after summer."

"You talked to the wasters at my school about me?" I manage to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Mmhmm," she answers vaguely, "They really had some colourful things to say about you. But back to the question you're avoiding."

I had to hand it to her, this lady was pretty sharp. "Okay, so maybe I did. Over the summer I cut the shit and actually started to be myself."

"Did anything else change?"

I shrug. "I made some new friends."

"When did you do that?"

I smirk. "A party. My sister wanted me to take her so my mom told me I had to."

"Why did you have to go?"

That's when I laugh. "My little sister was going and my mom wanted me to make sure my sister didn't, you know, end up raped in a closet. My mom actually trusted me back then."

**Page Break**

"Please Max," Ella tugs on my arm. I am literally one second from smacking her. "It's the last party of the summer. I want you to come."

That's it; I push her away from me. "No."

"Mom said that you had to. Come on, it's good for you to get out of the house," she lowers her voice incredibly. "Mom wants you to go somewhere. She's worried about you after what happened earlier this summer when... you know."

I am appalled. "Wow, she really shouldn't. Besides, she thinks a _party_ is the best place for me to be after everything was caused by some stupid party? Ella, _no._"

She shakes her head slightly. "Look, if you really want mom to get off you about this, and honestly, if you want everyone to just leave you alone, you have to act like your normal, or at least, not totally emo."

I look into her dark brown eyes which were identical to my mom's and sigh. I hate how she has a point. A solid one at that. "Fine. I will. Why are you so desperate to go anyway?"

"You know, Jeff's going to be there," she blushes and I refrain from gagging. She has this thing for one of the popular guys in my grade at school. I don't know why, because honestly? She could do better than just some dumb popular jock.

But I don't say anything, because Ella will tell mom and they'll ask me why I'm behaving so out of it recently and I really just want to get them off of my back. And so I guess the only way for that to happen is if I lay low for a while.

Ella's being annoying and squealing like an idiot because she's _so excited_ and my ears feel like they might bleed so I leave and go to my room and shut the door behind me. I flop down on my bed, which I had made up and fixed to perfection earlier, and yet I manage to ruin it. But recently I'd been doing that with a lot of things. I close my eyes and just lay there for what seemed like only five minutes, but next thing I know an hour has passed and Ella's in my room. Why was Ella in my room?

"Max? Max? _Max!_"

Apparently she's been saying my name for quite some time. I hazily sit up straight. "What?"

"You've got to get ready for the party, we're leaving in half an hour," Ella said impatiently. I look over her once to see she was all dressed up with makeup done and everything and she looks great. I hope she doesn't expect me to exert such effort.

It's funny, because I used to be like Ella, if not worse. I would always set up a bunch of potential outfits and walk through the slow decision process of which one I was actually going to wear. Then I'd spend about half an hour in front of the mirror making sure my hair was perfect then I'd fix my makeup and accessorize, and finish up with picking out the perfect pair of shoes. But that was before, and this is now.

And frankly, I don't give a shit.

"I'll get ready in ten minutes," I fall back onto the bed and cover up my eyes with my arm.

Ella groans. "Max, come on. You have to get ready and that takes time. If you really are going to be this stupid I'll do everything for you. Pick an outfit, fix your hair, do your makeup. Come on!"

I didn't think that I was going to have to pick out an outfit. I'm fine with just wearing my plain t-shirt and sweatpants, but apparently it's not about what I want. It's always been that way though.

Ella disappears into my closet and I have peace for a few minutes. Party, great. I can't believe my mom wants me to go to this. The last thing I want to do is go mingle with the people I haven't seen since _the incident_ and I really don't want to have people look at me. And to make things worse, Dylan's probably going to be there under the pathetic hope that I'll be there too, which sadly I am, and he's going to want to talk to me about "us" and I really don't care about "us".

"Here, put this on."

My moments of peace are officially over. I slip on the outfit Ella decided on. It's a dress that I'm now regretting not burning because I hate it, even though it used to be my favourite. It's strapless with some bunching or whatever you call it at the waist before it clings down the rest of the way. It's close-fitting and black, reaching shamelessly down three inches past my gitch. "Classy pick Ella."

She smiles innocently and I want to smack that smile of her face. She drags me to the washroom and has me sit on the toilet (seat down obviously) as she straightens out my hair which I have brushed in... weeks. She's constantly complaining that it's hard to make art from a canvas like me, but I zone out anyway.

"Max, you should take better care of yourself," she mutters. She moves onto my makeup, and I guess I do make thing difficult for her; I honestly look like shit. She puts on concealer to cover up the dark circle underneath my eyes from night of getting no sleep. She puts on a bit of eye liner and eye shadow and rid lipgloss and I just let hr play Barbie for a while because that's what she wants and I'm thoughtful like that.

"Do you like it?" Ella asks, as if she's desperate to know if I approve of her makeup and hair skills. Honestly, I don't give a shit. But I can't exactly tell her that.

"It's fine Ella." I stand up and straighten out my dress, which has ridden up to an indecent height. Ella's actually done a good job and I look better than I have in weeks. I take in a deep breath. I can do this."

Ella runs her way down the stairs, and I follow half-heartedly behind her. She returns with a pair of red strappy, five-inch-high deathtraps in her hands. She holds them out expectantly.

Oh God, she means for me to wear them. "No."

"Please Max," she whimpers. "They used to be your favourite heels."

"Key words: _used to_. Ella, no." I glare at her long and hard, hoping that she'll drop it.

She doesn't. "Max, I know you, you are my sister. And the last thing you want is for people to think is that something is wrong with you. And so far, with the way you are acting, that's what they'll think. Just pretend that you're the same and no one will bother you about dumb stuff like that. That's the best way to pass the night without having people annoying you with things you don't want to talk about. It's bad enough as it is."

I have to give Ella credit; she's a lot smarter than she looks. "Alright."

I slip on the high heels, and walk around a bit. I teeter for a second, but that's because I've been out of practice for a while. "Come on Ella."

And just like that the doorbell rings. I shoot Ella a questioning look and she shrugs. "Courtney's giving us a ride."

Ella ad Courtney do that annoying thing teenage girls do whenever their reunited from not seeing each other even though they saw each other an hour of so earlier. I walk straight past them and sit in the car; an old Honda Civic. I check out and stare at the cup holder until someone is shaking my shoulder.

"Max, we're here."

I blink a couple times before my thoughts come into focus and I'm looking out onto a small suburban street and I can hear the thick bass line pumping. I step out of the car. Ella races off with her friends, but I'm in no rush. I walk towards the house at a leisurely pace as I try to prepare myself for the fact that I'm going to a party and it feels exactly the same as before, they're even playing the same song.

My throat constricts for a second and I'm gasping for air, but just as soon as the feeling comes it goes, and I'm okay again. Everything's okay. I can do this. I enter through the front door without knocking because there's already too many people in the house to count and no one cares to check who is showing up anymore. I don't even know whose house this is.

People are dancing in the backyard and others are making out and stuff in the rooms around me. There's so many people and I've become so accustom to being alone recently that I feel suffocated. A couple of girls from the school track team smile and wave at me, and I half-heartedly wave back. I spot Dylan on the far side of the room and immediately walk away looking for a secluded spot since I just can't stand people. I pass the washroom, a closet, and eventually saunter into the kitchen. It's nearly empty, thank god, since most of the people are outside and I sit up on the counter with my legs crossed.

I've only been at the party for about three minutes and I already want to go home. I can't handle being around all of these people right now. I really wish that I hadn't listened to Ella. I feel like I can't breathe again, but the feeling passes, and I'm kind of hoping it will come back because at least I'm feeling something when that happens and right now I feel numb.

My eyes scan the room, but what can I say, it's a kitchen. Microwave, stove, counters, sink, dishwasher, and a half-empty bottle of vodka. Hmmm. It's been a while since I've drank, and I had never been the kind to get wasted. But if I'm going to have to wait for Ella's friends for a ride and they're going to want to stay here forever I'm not going to want to be sober.

I smell it, just to make sure some douche hasn't peed in it, before taking a swig straight from the bottle. It burns all the way down, and I wait a moment before the second swig. Before I used to only take one shot or so because I wouldn't be able to stand it if I started to act stupid and someone saw.

Fuck it. I'm about to drink more when everyone at the party seems to discover the kitchen and I'm not longer alone which is exactly what I want to be. And the worst part is that people actually notice me.

"Hey Max," Kate asks. She was one of my friends, but we weren't like, buddies. "You okay? That dress is nice."

I don't feel like talking to her, but I do anyway because I'm nice like that. "Thanks. I'm loving the shoes."

"So you ready for the school year?"

I don't know why she thinks that's a real question. "No."

"Yeah, well I guess I'm excited and nervous. It's the final year. I'm ready to get out of this city." Kate smiles and talks as if completely at ease.

I nod. I'm not good with social interaction like this; J.J. always had been and I always had depended on that.

"Hey," A voice says from my left. "What's up?"

I turn. "Hey Sam."

He's not a bad looking guy, with his chestnut hair and hazel eyes; he looks tres cute in his graphic tee. But it's nothing I haven't seen before.

"You know," he smiles, "Dylan's been looking for you. I'm supposed to tell him if I see you. Says you've been avoiding him."

I roll my eyes, because typically, Dylan would do something annoying like that. I bet he has the whole basketball team working for him. "Yeah about that, please don't."

Sam runs a hand through his messy hair. "I don't know, he might get angry."

I laugh and lean close to Sam. He smells like soap. I can practically feel his eyes widen in shock and I remember that there was a time when we went out. A long, long time ago. When I get my head close enough to his ear I whisper. "What he doesn't know won't kill him, right?"

"I guess," he mutters as he backs away from me. Good, he's leaving. Kate gets whisked outside by one of her friends and it's just me and the bottle. I take a sip.

I slid off of the counter, leaving the bottle there, and make my way outside since it's so loud out there that no one will try to talk to me. The beat of the sound resonates and I feel a bit off balance, but that's just the alcohol. I'm looking for a place to hide and be alone because that seems like the best option right now, but all I find is Ella staring at Jeff Griffiths but not talking to him as he talks to another girl and I feel slightly ashamed of her. If she wants him so fucking much then she should at least talk to him.

I feel a set of arms wrap around my waist and I jump before I realize who it is and I scowl. "Dylan."

"Max, I want to talk to you," he says slowly in my ear.

"No," I mumble.

I can feel his annoyance. "Max, come on. You can't just send me a text saying we're over and then refuse to tell me why."

"Yeah I can," I say, a little slurred. "You can't stop me from breaking up with you."

"Shit Max," he turns my around. "What the hell is into you right now? Come on, we're going to talk. I won't leave you alone until you do."

I weigh my options, and it takes some time since the vodka has made my thoughts a little fuzzy. "Fine."

I let Dylan lead me in through the house and up the stairs to a vacant bedroom and he shuts the door behind me before sitting on the bed, patting the space beside him indicating that I'm supposed to sit too. I hope he doesn't think he's going to get lucky.

"Max, was it something I did to you or... what happened to us?" Dylan asks and I'm pissed because I knew that this would happen.

"Stop shitting yourself Dylan and listen carefully," I reply. "I broke up with you because I just didn't want to be with you anymore. Period. Don't go over analyze that because it's just that simple."

Dylan scrunches his eyebrows and I know he's over thinking this like an idiot. "Is this because of what happened at the party? I haven't told anyone, I swear. But it's just because I care about you and you make it difficult for me to care about you because you don't want it."

I roll my eyes. "It has nothing to do with that, I just don't want to be with you. We went over this like, two seconds ago."

Dylan stares at me angrily. "So that's just how it is. You just don't care about me anymore, just like that."

"Yup."

He looks murderous. "How could you just stop loving me like that? Did you just wake up one morning and decide that I no longer mattered?"

I roll my eyes. "You're so dramatic and stupid. I didn't take the time to analyze every single emotion I have. Here's how it is: I don't want be together with you like that because, yeah I don't care about you that way anymore."

"So that's it? I don't a get a single say in this?" He spits out, and I think I'm going to be sick because the last time we fought like this was _the incident_.

I cross my arms and glare at him. "You know what? You don't get a say in this. Because you can't make someone love you, and I don't love you. See how it works?"

He scowls and I feel like a champion because that's the sign that he's going to give up the argument and I've won. He runs a hand through his honey hair. "Max, have you seen anyone?"

"Now you're accusing me of cheating or whatever. You're really taking this well," I snarl. He's being a real bitch.

"No Max," he shakes his head, "I mean like, seeing someone as in some professional help?"

That hits me like a sucker punch. Dylan would bring up the stuff that is absolutely _none of his fucking business._

"Shut up Dylan," my voice is deceptively calm and quiet, but it has that edge that lets him know he shouldn't continue talking.

And yet he does anyway. "Max, you need to see someone. J.J. wouldn't have told me about the panic attacks unless she'd thought it was a serious problem and I'm worried about you."

I hate him for that. I really do. "I haven't had any problems recently and I think I've gotten over it. I'm fine, so leave me alone."

He opens his mouth to say something, but I don't hear it because I've already stood up and walked out of the room. The music is blaring, and it's as if I can feel the alcohol moving back and forth in my stomach with each step I take. There's too many people in this house and I need to get _out._

I make my way down the stair, tightly gripping the handle banister as I try not to hurl, though I still kind of want to because I like it when things hurt and everything goes wrong. At least, I do now.

I stagger as I make it to the ground floor and I stumble around, but I can't remember how I got in or which way is out and I have no idea of where I am or which way it is to go home so I can't _walk_ and the air is becoming thicker and thicker and it's getting harder to inhale.

"Hey, Max?"

I turn around stiffly to see Lissa Ried, who is only the most popular girl in the school. She's got long, auburn hair all the other girls are jealous of and a figure that guys drool over. A party isn't worthy of being called a party unless she shows up. She's decked out in heels and a green party dress that goes well with her eyes. Everyone is dying for her attention and here she is talking to me.

"Hey Lissa." I respond.

We had always known each other; it's just that we'd never really talked before. She was a cheerleader and I was the female athlete who did almost any sport. Lissa went out to all sorts of scandalous places and I stayed home and studied. If you were really looking for Lissa, you could probably find her at the mall while I was out doing... everything. Volunteering, babysitting, extracurriculars, studying. We just never did the same things.

But now I'm here and she's here and from the look of her face she wants to leave too.

"This is boring as fuck," she complains.

"Yeah," I agree, leaning my back against a wall, "I didn't even want to show but then my mom made me come with my sister and now I'm here."

Lissa sends me a compassionate wince. "Yeah, I decided to show up and now I'm just waiting for my boyfriend so I can get the fuck out of here."

She talks as though I already know who her boyfriend is, and I'm sure the rest of the world knows, but I've been out of the loop for a while. "Lucky, I'm stuck here until my sister is ready to leave, which isn't going to happen for like... ever." I roll my eyes.

Lissa leans against the wall and she's right beside me. "When I find my stupid boyfriend and his stupid friends, want to get out of here with us? Your sister has a ride, right?"

"Uhuh," I mumble, because honestly, I'd do anything to get out of this party with all of these people I know and escape Dylan. "I'm ready to GTFO."

"If my Nick isn't here in ten minutes, I think I'm going to murder someone. Preferably him."

I'm getting to think Lissa is actually okay. Her boyfriend shows up in a couple of minutes and I internally punch myself, because I know who he is. In fact, I'm ashamed I couldn't connect the dots. He stands over six feet tall with olive skin and dark hair and dark clothes. The school's Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. Girls sigh at the sound of his name because, I'm not going to lie, he's hot. And I'm ashamed I hadn't made the connection because obviously the most popular guy and girl in the school are going to be going out.

Nick looks at me all stoic and brick-wall like. "Max Ride. Where's your... friend?"

I roll my eyes. Dylan and Nick had this long going hate thing going on. I mean, Nick was the football captain and Dylan was basketball. They were both the hottest guys in the grade at school and I have no idea what their problem is but they can't stand each other.

And I can't stand either of them. "I don't know since I don't talk to him anymore."

"Did he break your heart?" The way he asks it is so condescending and I'm not going to take it even if it is my only way of getting out of this party early.

So I laugh. "Haha, as if. I dumped his sorry ass, like _weeks_ ago. Why, are you stalking him? Or is it one of those gay guy things where you hook up after three am? Does Lissa mind?"

He stares at me in shock, and I realize that's something that Maximum Ride would never, _ever_ say out loud. Or at least, for them. But they only knew me _before._

"Damn Max," Lissa smiles, "you're awesome. I don't know why we were never friends before."

I know why. Because before I was a different person. Nick glances emotionlessly between me and Lissa, but he doesn't comment. "Jeff's in the car. Let's go."

And we do. To a small cabin in the middle of a set of woods. I don't know why we're here, or how we got here since the vodka is really getting to me and my head is a bit fuzzy when it comes to thoughts.

So we're sitting in a area with mosquito netting and they have a fire pit going and Nick and Lissa are wrapped up in a blanket together on one side and I'm just awkwardly there with Jeff. He's like, the opposite of Nick: super white. He's got really light blond hair and really blue eyes and really pasty skin that never tans. And I guess he's kind of cute in that adorable guy way, and thinking about it, Ella's probably super bummed that Jeff's left eh party. If/when she finds out I was with him, there will be a flip out of epic proportions. But I'd like not to think about that.

I'd rather just not think. I pull an old Winnie the Pooh blanket around my arms, because the outdoor temperature has dropped drastically, and I try to act like this is fun. Although, it kind of is nice because it's a distraction and I really need one of those.

"So, what did you do this summer Max?"

The question pulls me out of my trance and I realize everyone is looking at me.

Jeff awkwardly scratches his neck. "Cause, I haven't really seen you around."

"College stuff," I respond without missing a beat. "I went to go do some athletics stuff with the team at UCLA."

It comes out flawlessly. It's a perfect lie.

But then again, everything I do is perfect.

"Wow, you think you're going to get in?" They always have a follow up question.

I shake my head. "I don't think I want to do sports; too much effort."

That one's not a lie.

Jeff nods his head. "Do what you want to do."

And that's the end of the conversation. No real interrogation, no demanded detailed response. I could get used to these people.

You know, at least until my mom calms down. Jeff reaches into a cooler and brings out some beer. I'm too drunk to read the labels as he passes them out to everyone. I take a cautious sip, then another as I sink back farther into my chair. I'm a lucky girl since I'm one of those calm drunk people. At least or the most part.

"So did you hear that Taylor Harris is fucking Evan Skanes?" Lissa asks. She looks at me for the response because even though we've only really talked to each other today, we're like, Gossip Girl.

"No, I just got back home a day ago," I feign interest. "What's with them? I thought Evan was with Kayla."

"Well Evan _was _with Kayla but then he started talking with Taylor since they were working at the same summer camp..."

This is the point where the guys lose interest and start to have their own conversation. I can't blame them.

Lissa just keeps talking. "And then Evan starts cheating on Kayla with Taylor and it was going on for about a month before Kayla found out and yelled at him for it. The worst part is that Evan and Taylor didn't have the fucking decency to apologize."

She pauses and I know I'm supposed to say something but my brain can't form a thought for a while; partially because I'm drunk and Partially because I've always been socially awkward. But I finally manage to choke out "Well, Evan's always been a shithead and Taylor's a whore. They deserve each other."

The words are funny coming out of my mouth, because old Max would never say mouthing like that about someone unless it was to J.J.

But Lissa seems happy with this response. "Yeah. I mean, there's a reason I don't talk to her anymore. The thing I hate most in the world is someone who cheats or someone who helps someone cheat."

She says it with such force that it lodges into my brain, whereas most of our conversation has just floated in through one ear, out through the next.

"Cheaters suck." I go with it, because I'm sure that will just float her boat.

Lissa grins and wraps her arm around me. I think she's drunk, but not very so it's a big surprise. I stiffen uncomfortably since I'm not used to being all touchy-feely, but she doesn't seem to notice. Either that, or she just does not give a fuck.

"Max," she announces, "You are going to be my new best friend."

A few hours later my "new best friend" dropped me off at my house. It took a while to get there because I was having trouble remembering the important stuff like where my house was, but eventually Nick, Lissa And Jeff found it and they let me out of the car.

"We should hang out more!" Lissa exclaims with half of her body out of the window before someone pulls her back inside the car. I stumble up the driveway and to the front porch where I fumble with the door handle for a while before my mom opens the door and I almost fall in face forward.

"Max, it's four in the morning! Where were you?" She says in that worried voice that I can't stand. She's been using it too much recently.

I tell her the truth. "I made some new friends." It comes out all slurred, and she _knows_ that I'm drunk off my ass, but she's happy that I still have the ability to socialize since I've spent my last few weeks as a recluse.

She lets me inside the house and I climb the stairs while leaning heavily onto the railing. It seems like it takes forever but I eventually make it to the top and to my room. I flick on the light and shut the door.

I kick my heels off of my aching feet and drop to the ground, one hand reaching clumsily underneath my bed. _I know they're here._

Because sometime during the night I formulated a plan; a beautiful, fool-proof, twisted plan. _Got it._ I pull out one of my old math notebooks that I've always kept underneath my bed for reference and flip to an open page and there I go.

I make a checklist, so perfect that no one could argue with it, it's the most spectacular thing I've ever created. A step by step plan with due dates for task completion and sub-checkboxes within the main steps on the list and underlined titles and subtitles. Like a biology note, but much, much more important, more revolutionary.

I'm so proud of myself that I start to get that familiar feeling, that satisfying buzz in the back of my head when I do something perfectly.

I close the notebook and place it under the bed with the rest of the notebooks I have so no one will find it, a perfect way to get rid of any suspicion. The perfection buzz gets higher. Too high

I run to the washroom and throw up.

**please review? it only takes approximately two minutes of your time and it normally turns out to be the highlight of my day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**HI.**

**So I'm leaving the words "page break" in the chapter instead of inserting page breaks because on the mobile site, they don't show page breaks and it's terribly confusing with how many page breaks and changes I have in the story.**

**Disclaimer: Je ne own pas le Maximum Ride.**

**highlight of the day: cookies for breakfast.**

"So Max, what was school like at the beginning of that year?"

I think it over. "Well it was different, but mostly because mostly because I had myself under control. I mean, over that summer I learned that I didn't need to be perfect, so I was much calmer. Less flustered. It was good. I'm happier now."

I mentally pat myself on the back. That was a really believable response.

If only Dr. Wyatt could accept it. "Explain what was going on in your life."

She asks with such authority, I answer honestly. "Well I was popular for the first time in my life. I mean, I wasn't a loser before; I was just the 'perfect' girl. And now it was like I was super important to people."  
><strong><br>PAGE BREAK**

"See that shirt in the front mirror? Costs $165, but I got something practically identical for about $25 somewhere else." Lissa explains to me as we wander through the local mall after school. The first day to be exact. It was absolutely different from any other school day I've ever had.

Lissa and I had walked through the doors together and it was talk of the school, how Max Ride was now friends with Lissa and how Max "Perfect" Ride was back from her strange disappearance over the summer and how awesome everything was now. But it wasn't awesome, and I felt sick, like I might've thrown up at any point. But it was part of the plan and the plan wasn't supposed to be _fun_, it was supposed to be effective.

So I fake a smile at Lissa. "Some people can be so stupid. Why would you waste your money on something you can get so much cheaper somewhere else?"

"Way of the world. What people don't understand is that it's not about where the product is, for the most part, it's about how you wear it. Act confident and work it, and everyone admires it. So simple, yet hardly anyone figures it out."

I've got to give her credit; Lissa's not as dumb as she looks. Which is really dumb. That makes this slightly more bearable.

"Makes sense," I agree with her and she beams at me. "I mean, there are people who go out so far to buy stuff that will help them fit in, but being popular, honestly, is all about personality and how you act, which is why they never get there."

Lissa's smile is so wide that her face might rip in half. I really hope it doesn't, or else I'm going to have to revise the plan tremendously. "Exactly! No one I've ever said that to ever understood what I meant! We think so similarly. We're like, already great friends. It's as if you've been my best friend since forever."

I wish she hadn't said that because then her face drops and I know the question that's coming even before she says it. It's the question I keep trying to dodge, but everyone feels the need to ask it. I hate that. "How have you been recently since the thing with...what happened to JJ? I'd never been close with her, but I know she was your best friend for a really long time."

Why do people always assume I want to talk about shit like that? I'd rather not think about it, at least not here because it forces the memories to come back and I want to throw up, I can't breathe as the world starts to twist and I want to pinch myself until I can't feel anything anymore. I clench my fists in a way that forces my fingernails to dig into my palms and slowly I regain control. "I'm fine. When did you and Nick get together?"

I only say it because I'm really desperate for a subject change. But I guess it also helps with the plan. Gathering information and what not.

Lissa gets that dreamy look about 98% of girls get when they discuss their boyfriends (this doesn't include when they're angry). "Well, we had always been in the same general group of people who hung out, and eventually I told him that I was interested in him and I wanted to be together and he decided he wanted that too later on."

I have to admit, I'm sort of jealous of Lissa. I mean, in most ways? No. But she's so good at being around people. And then she's always been able to be forward with guys and tell them if she's into them or not, while I just feel completely lost whenever I'm in that situation. I force myself to smile in that nauseating way people do when something's adorable. "You and Nick together are so cute together!"

"Really?" she asks and I know she's overjoyed. It's kind of sickening.

"Definitely," I assure her and she brushes her long auburn hair over she shoulders. Her green eyes are shining like a child's on Christmas. Lame.

"So what happened between you and Dylan anyways?" Of course she would have to bring that up.

I think out my answer carefully. "Well, I guess I wasn't into him as much anymore. He was bothering me about some stuff that I didn't want him to get into with. Like, He was poking into my personal life and sometimes I wanted my space. Besides, I didn't want to be with him anymore so I dumped him. He's still upset about it."

Lissa nods. "Well sometimes things like that happen. You did the right think though by breaking up with him. It's not right to be with someone if you don't love them, or at least like them that way."

I nod vacantly, because I'm focusing on storing that tidbit of information into my mind. I refocus on the conversation and say exactly what Lissa wants to hear. "I didn't want to hurt him by breaking up with him, but I would only hurt him more if I stayed together with him without really feeling it."

"I know Max," Lissa sighs and looks all sad as if she actually really cares. Funny. I don't. "It's just sad that you broke up. You and Dylan were perfect together."

That hits me like a shard of ice stabbing into my gut. I hate it when people describe me with that word. Maybe not so much before, but _now_ I can't stand it. I'm going to be sick, so I clench my fists unbearably tight, so tight that they hurt because that's what I need.

"That's just what people thought. It wasn't perfect at all, it was so flawed."

But I'm not talking about Dylan and I being together anymore.

**Page Break**

"So you were popular. Didn't that have some perks?"

I shrug. "I didn't like how people were constantly poking in my business. It was like I was a soap opera for them to watch, and everyone knew what was going on in my life. The new type of earrings I wore made front page on the school paper. It was ridiculous."

Dr. Wyatt taps her fingers against her clipboard. "So did you like it?"

I hated it. I hated people constantly wanting to be near me because I really wanted to be left alone and just disappear from their thoughts forever. But I lie to Dr. Wyatt. "At first I was a bit inhibited but I really loved it. I liked how people were always looking up to me and everything...it made me feel important."

It flows out of my mouth flawlessly. I've been bullshitting people for so long that it comes out easier than the truth now.

**PAGE BREAK**

"Max? Max? Max!" Ella might as well be screaming at me. I reluctantly take the headphones out of my ears.

"What is it Ella?" I pause whatever song I had been listening to. Lissa loaded up my nearly empty iPod with thousands of songs last week, so I've just been listening to whatever.

She tossed me an annoyed look. "Jeff's outside. He says you guys were going to hang out."

Ella's been jealous of me for weeks now simply because I've been hanging around Jeff, but that's only because he hangs out with Lissa and I'm her "best friend" now. Ella's acting like it's a personal shot at her. She's so obsessed with him, it's disgusting.

I want to tell her to grow up because things like high school crushes are so useless and a total waste of time and the way she acts about him is fucking shameful. On her part.

"Tell him I'll be there in two minutes."

I get up and slip on a pair of faded denim shorts and a red tank top because I'm too lazy to care. It's just a lame hang out at one of their houses at which the guys will play video games and Lissa will talk to me about things that don't really matter like who's dating who and other gossip and what not.

I slide on a pair of white Birkenstocks that Lissa gave to me because they "made her feet look too wide", grab my phone, and walked down the stairs, and out the front door. Ella is listening to Jeff talk about football, nodding along like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I snort. I bet she doesn't even understand what the quarterback is, just that girls are dying to date him.

She's such a pushover when it comes to guys, always giving them the time of day while they leave her hanging. It's always been like that with her too. I don't know how we came out so opposite. I decide to put her out of her misery.

"Hey Jeff," I say with a fake smile.

He smiles back at me widely. "Hey Max."

I open the door and get into the passenger seat of Jeff's old Benz. His parents gave it to him after they got a new Escalade (their third, to be exact). His parents are loaded, like absolutely loaded. His mansion is about three times the size of my house-which isn't even small in the first place-and the yard is huge. Whenever he throws a party, everyone wants to be there.

I look over at my sister. Ella's frowning because Jeff hasn't so much as glanced at her since I've arrived. She might as well learn that being a doting puppy doesn't get you shit.

I ignore her as I smile dazzlingly at Jeff. "Where to tonight?"

"Nick's house," he runs a hand through his light blonde hair in that way that makes girls sigh. They all swoon when he walks passed them, twittering about how tall he is (this kid must've eaten his broccoli as a kid because he's about 6'3'') and he had white, white skin that never tans. When the sun passes through his hair, you can see that it's tinted a slight strawberry blonde. Jeff's not bad looking, all dimples. He's got that image of that adorable guy. He's not sexy, but he's hot.

I'm not looking forward to hanging out with them. The worst parts about being popular are that everyone wants to be around you, and you have to be social. The two things I hate the most.

So I lie to Jeff. "Sounds great. Bye Ella! Have fun at home alone!"

She death glares at me so fiercely I might be proud of her. You know, if it hadn't been about some stupid guy. She steps back from the car as Jeff steps down on the gas pedal, and all I can see is Ella's sad frown in the side view mirror getting farther and farther behind me. I hate it when she gives me that look, but I'll have to live with it since it's for the plan.

"So how are you Max?" Jeff asks conversationally. He's got that open, happy quality to him that makes it seem like he never feels down.

I think about what he just said. It's a dumb question considering I saw him about two hours and not much in a person's life changes in that amount of time. Well not for the most part. You could ask someone how they are a year since you last saw them and the answer would probably still be the same.

"I'm fine," I answer lightly. I press the button to lower the car window and let the cool wind run through my messy hair. I tried (and failed) to run a brush through it earlier, but it was neat enough to pass off as "tousled". I sigh. Today is one of those September days that manage to be blisteringly hot despite the fact everything is supposed to be cooling down. I heard on the news that we might be in for what may possibly be the longest summer in record. They blame it on global warming.

I absent-mindedly run a hand through my tangled hair and I stare out the window. We're driving past the strip of extremely unhealthy fast food joints that I recently fell in love with. Nothing's better on a hangover than a triple cheeseburger. My dad used to take we to the ice cream shop on Fridays and always get me a jumbo sundae with tons of sprinkles and he'd sit there and listen to me talk about my day and all the things that bothered me like how some of the cracks in the sidewalk were bigger than other and he'd laugh and tell me not to worry about it, giving me the cherry from on top of his own sundae. But I don't want to think about that.

So I return my attention to Jeff. "So, how are you dealing with the new school year?"

Jeff shrugs. "Okay, I guess. I like my timetable."

I pretend that I'm intrigued by this. "What classes do you have this semester?"

"Functions, gym, and you're in my biology and physics classes."

Right. In my mind I absolutely regret picking these courses last year. But then again, this year was supposed to be perfect according to old me. And last year I was planning my future; to go to some high end college and work my ass off so I could get into a high end university program and work my ass off to get a high end degree. Why had I been so stupid back then?

I sigh. "Biology and physics are killing me right now."

Jeff laughs at me. "I'm good at them though, so you suck."

I punch him playfully. "Shut up. I'm just really out of things this year. Last year my marks kicked your marks' ass."

But not by much. Despite Jeff's unintelligent appearance and his extreme popularity, he is actually super smart when it comes to scientific subjects. Chemistry, biology, physics. Last year I had to spend hours and hours studying so I could top his marks. Because who really cares about second best? And the worst part was that he didn't even need to really try, he was naturally good at stuff like that. I studied relentlessly for only a slight advantage over him. And really, where did that get me?

No where important.

"I like to live in the present," Jeff smirks. "And in the present, my marks are beating your marks with a shovel and burying them alive."

"Ouch," I pretend to be hurt. I'm getting really good at this acting thing. And I only have to be buddy-buddy with them for a few more months.

Jeff gives me an approving once over as he pulls up to a stoplight. "I hope the temperature stays this high for a while."

"Why?"

He smiles crookedly. "Because you look phenomenal. I'd hate to see you get all covered up."

I roll my eyes, because Jeff's notorious for saying stuff like that. Fucking pervert. "Shut it Jeff, unless you want your limbs to be rearranged."

He pales. I didn't think he could get any pastier than his regular skin tone so I'm extremely surprised. I didn't think it was possible for people to be that white. It's probably not healthy.

He keeps on grinning anyways, so I reach over and turn up the radio. Some new pop song is blaring over the speakers. I slip on a pair of faux Ray Bans that Jeff had left on the console, pushing my "tousled" hair off my neck, letting to wind from the window hit me at full force. Jeff tapped his fingers on the car wheel, his bright blue eyes shining.

"You know Max, I thought I'd had you figured out," he mumbles. "Miss Perfect, not a mistake in your book. Always working hard and uptight and unreachable."

I hate that our conversation topic has turned to me. "I guess you just didn't know me that well."

He forges on anyway. "But now, you're so different from what I remember. You're constantly surprising me."

I bite my lip. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"A good thing," he grins. "I'm tired of people I can predict."

I laugh, not because he's particularly comical or because I'm having a good time, but because I'm pretty sure he won't be saying unpredictability is good in the future.

At least not to me.

We arrive at Nick's place. It's nothing out of the normal, just a regular house in your average suburban neighbourhood. Manicured grass, shiny windows, two-car garage, and looks nearly identical to all the houses surrounding it except for the colour.

The interior is the same story. Neutral coloured walls, some vaulted ceilings, clean hardwood floors, family photos hung up on the walls. The house had that generally warm feeling to it.

It made me feel sick on the inside, but I tell Nick "Nice place."

"Max?"

I turn around swiftly to the unfamiliar voice as I feel my eyes widen remarkably. "Nudge?"

"Oh my god, it really is you Max! I haven't seen you in so long it's ridiculous. When was the last time, when I was eight? Too long! Wow you've really gotten tall and pretty!"

That just confirms it's Nudge. I remember having play dates with her when we were younger. Her number one characteristic was her ability to talk and talk and talk without breathing. Looking back on it, I have no idea how we were close friends; I hardly ever talked and she couldn't stop, or maybe I would just listen. She's all grown up now though. All of her baby fat has disappeared and she's tall and lean. Her long dark hair, which used to be uncontrollably curly, was straightened down her back. She was dressed up in a sundress that complimented her mocha skin colour.

I'm still confused. "Nudge, what are you doing here?"

She laughs as if I've said something super funny. "I live here."

"You're Nick's sister?" I ask calmly, but on the inside I'm reeling. How could I _not_ realize they were related? Where had he been all those times we'd hung out and why hadn't this ever come up in conversation?

Nick nods at me. "I told you I had a sister in the eleventh grade."

I instantly curse the way I tend to blank out in conversations with them. "Sorry, must have forgotten."

They all laugh at my expense. But I know how to make the best out of every situation and I'm thinking up an idea for the plan.

I look at Lissa, Nick, and Jeff. "I'll meet up with you guys in a second."

They nod and walk off down the hall and I'm there alone with Nudge. "Nudge, it's been way too long. We should hang out sometime soon. Do you remember Ella?" I bring up casually.

Nudge gasps. "Yes! I mean, she's in my grade and we have a couple classes and everything but we don't really talk that much. We should all have a sleepover sometime and we'll all catch up and do makeovers and stuff and it will be so awesome."

She's beaming at me. I allot myself a solid 2.4 seconds to feel accomplished with myself because I'm already getting preset for a later part of the plan. I smile back at her. "I'm exicted for this. I better get going, but I'll tell Ella about it. She'll be thrilled too."

"Sounds great. I can't wait to hang out with you guys. I'll see you later if you're still here when I get back from my hot date with Cody Randells, the soccer team captain," she winks at me before running out the door and into Cody's car. Cody Randells is kind of an asshole. I hope he doesn't rape and kill her or else I'm going to have to make some serious revision to the just revised plan.

I don't go straight to find Lissa and the guys, but instead look around the house. Pictures of smiling faces on vacations hanging on the walls, air fresheners letting out little blasts of "springtime lilac" every few minutes. Basically you typical family home. Charming. I bet they're hiding bodies under the floorboards. I focus in on one photo of them all at the beach when a voice interrupts me. "Looking for something?"

It's Nick. I try to act like he didn't just surprise me although I hadn't heard his stealthy approach. This kid's a freaking ninja. "No."

"Everyone's over here. We're waiting for you so we can start the movie." He says stoically. I wonder if he ever really smiles, because as far as I can tell, he's an emotionless brick. The exact opposite to overemotional Lissa.

I smile nervously. "I'm sorry, I got distracted."

He nods in reply as he starts to turn back.

I roll my eyes. "Well don't talk my ears off."

He looks back at me long enough to smirk. It's actually... kind of cute. I can see why Lissa thinks he's so dreamy and I can see why teenage girls are all such wash outs. Because Nick's still kind of a douche bag.

I sit down on the left side of the couch beside Lissa who's between me and Nick. Jeff has picked out some movie called "Zack and Miri Make a Porno". Joy.

"Wow Jeff, really?" Lissa says in that slightly annoyed tone that shows that she's not annoyed at all.

So they press play and I don't pay any attention to the movie because I really don't want to be here watching this movie when I could be back at home in my room _alone_. But I force myself to think that it's necessary and that it's all going towards to what I want.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Lissa leaning into Nick. A couple days ago she told me she was in love with him and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing at her because love isn't real. But I'll let her figure that one out on her own. It's going to happen soon enough for her.

"Yo Max, you should do something like that," Jeff snaps me out of my reverie and I focus on how he's pointing at the screen.

I send him a confused look. "What the fuck Jeff?"

He sighs as if I'm some unteachable student. Fuck him. "You should become a pornstar."

Once again, I'm regretting that I zoned out. "Okay, let me repeat; w_hat the fuck Jeff?_"

Jeff looks at me as if I'm stupid. "I mean, you've got all the criteria. You're incredibly sexy, guys want to see you without any clothes on, and you've even got the perfect name for it: Maximum Ride. Is that dirty or what?"

I grit my teeth. On several occasions I have questioned my parents name choice. My mom told me that they thought of the name Maximum together, and then, since they weren't romantically together and were fighting over the last name, they named me Ride, after the astronaut Sally Ride. I think they were just trying to be funny. Although, what parents in their right minds want their daughter to be referred to as the "Maximum Ride"?

"Shut up Jeff," I growl.

"I have to admit," Lissa pipes in, "he does have a point."

Jeff grins at me. "You know, I would watch your movies if you were a porn star. In fact, I would co-star in your pornos."

He waggles his eyebrows at me and I'm feeling disgusted. "Sexist pig."

"What? People would pay prime money to watch us have sex," he just feels the need to drag on.

I'm taking a couple deep breaths as I try to think violent-free thoughts. _At least I know he wants to fuck me_, I think carefully, _that's good...I guess?_

"You have fun fantasizing about that," I say back to him. It sounds like a reasonable enough answer.

He laughs. "Someday it won't just be a fantasy."

I scoff. "You just keep thinking that bud."

I blink and when my eyes reopen the ending credits are playing on the big screen television.

"Tired much?" Lissa smiles at me.

"This movie was so boring that I couldn't help it," I answer quickly, rubbing my chin to make sure I didn't drool.

Incredulous eyes turn to me. "You thought that was _boring_?"

They act like I'm a criminal for thinking that. I roll my eyes. "They were poor, they made a porno in a coffee shop and then I'm guessing they fell in love because I missed that part."

"Well someone's a tough critic," Jeff stage whispers to Nick. Nick smirks. They might as well be laughing at me.

I pick up a decorative cushion from the couch and whip it at their heads. "I just have standards."

Lissa's laughing and Nick's eyes are shining darkly. I guess that's as much emotion as I'll ever get from him. But that's okay. Emotions suck anyways. And as much as I really don't like spending time with these people, I guess it could be much, much worse.

"So what now?" Lissa asks us. There's a sea of shrugs and a couple mumbled 'I don't cares'.

"Whatever floats your boat Lissa, I'm up for it," I flash her a really genuine-looking smile that best friends always give each other.

She returns it with a mouthed 'thanks'. I'm so good at being friends; actually, I'm just great at pretending to be friends and she's really good at buying it. Lissa thinks for a minute. It really shouldn't take a person this long to make up their mind, and I swear I see a light bulb go on over her head a couple minutes later when she says "Let's play 'I Never'!"

Oh joy. She nudges Nick and he gets up and walks down into the hall, returning with a bottle of vodka. I swallow. I don't want to get drunk with these people and in my intoxicated stupor mention that I don't really want to be their friends; I'm just doing it out of lack of choice and so my mom thinks I'm normal.

We decide against using shot glasses because who really gives a fuck? Lissa's giggling like a maniac because this is going to be _so much fun_ and I'm not looking forward to it. At all.

"Okay, me first!" Lissa pipes. "Never have I ever shot whiskey."

Wow. Lame. I grab the bottle after Jeff and take a swig.

Jeff goes next since we've decided on going clockwise. "Never have I ever cheated. On anything. Tests, girls, etc."

Hmm, I have to think about this one. Nope, I'm actually clear. Besides, since Lissa's number one pet peeve is cheating, and I'm her BFF and all that bull, she'll be thrilled when I pass up the bottle.

In fact, not a single person drinks.

"Never have I ever," Nick hesitates, "had a two day hangover."

I'm the first to grab the bottle from the center of the circle and take a gulp. It burns all the way down my throat. I pass it to Lissa who passes to Jeff.

It's my turn. Hmmm, what can I say? "Never have I ever done a guy while on my period."

People laugh while Lissa takes the bottle. I raise an eyebrow. "Jeff, you're supposed to take a drink when you've done something."

Everyone laughs harder while Jeff looks at me in false disgust. I shoot him a grin.

And on it goes.

"Never have I ever screwed someone in a washroom stall."

Me and Nick take a swig. Damn Dylan.

"Never have I ever stolen."

Lissa.

"Never have I ever hooked up with someone under false pretences."

Lissa again.

"Never have I ever lost all my clothes and had to run home naked."

Jeff and Nick.

It's terribly boring, yet it's interesting to learn about these people. Lissa's not as innocent as she looks, though I'm sure most of the world knows that, and Jeff's more of a saint that I ever have thought. Hmmm.

A while later everyone is drunk or tipsy and we're sitting on the floor. Well Nick's lying with his head in Lissa's lap but whatever. It's like I can feel the alcohol moving in my stomach when I get up and make my way to the washroom. The floor isn't 100% stable, but I'm enough in my mind to still make solid decisions. I think.

It takes me a few minutes, but I eventually open the door and flick on the lights to the bathroom and I see myself in the mirror. I still look okay, maybe a little bit flushed, but it's not really noticeable. My hair is falling flawlessly around my face and I look pretty much just as good as I did before. And I don't mean earlier on today. I mean _before_.

I hate mirrors.

They lie.

**PAGE BREAKER**

"How did your family react to your new set of friends?"

"My mom was happy for me. She thought I was too unsocial at times and she really was worried that I didn't fit in and that might lower my self-esteem. She was thrilled to find out I was popular." And for once I tell the full truth. My mom would always tell me that my friends had called for me in this excited voice. I always thought it was pretty hilarious but my mom was more pumped that I had friends than I was.

Dr. Wyatt crosses her arms. "And what about your sister?"

Maybe I should lie about this one. "She was happy I was out there talking with people. Sometimes she would tell me how cool it was that I was popular, because I think that was her life goal, but she was really supportive. She loved my new friends." _One in particular._

"So she never got upset about it?"

_Yes. All the time._ "Not really."

**PAGE BREAKER YOU GOT THE BEST OF ME**

Jeff gives me a ride home that night. I really don't feel safe driving in the same car with him, but if I get seriously injured in the car crash my mom will probably be so happy I survived that she'll overlook the fact that I'm sort of drunk. My mom's a softie like that.

He drops me off out front. The lights in the house are low and mom's car is gone so I guess she's got some sort of cow birth going on at her clinic. My mom, Dr. Martinez, is a veterinarian. She shares a clinic with her friend from college.

Jeff pulls up onto the driveway and stops the car. "I'll see you around."

"Thanks for the ride, Jeff," I unfasten my seat belt and turn to open the door.

Jeff grabs my arm. "Don't I get a goodnight kiss?"

"No, you _don't_," I roll my eyes. "Maybe another night."

I get out of his Benz while he takes the time to process what I said. I walk up to the front door and unlock it waving back once before walking inside. Ella's waiting there with expectant eyes. It's kind of sad. More than kind of.

"So did you have fun Max?" she asks earnestly.

"Sure," I answer vaguely.

Of course she needs to ask follow up questions. "What did you guys do?"

Ella. I love her as my sister, but sometimes she's the most annoying thing in the world. Like right now. "Watched a movie. Talked."

"What did you guys talk about?" her eyes widen and I know what's coming next. "What did Jeff say?"

I look into her large, doting, brown eyes and all I can do is pity her. She's so desperate for someone who has never given her a second glance and probably never will with the way she makes herself painfully available. So I decide to help her out, because she's got to stop thinking that Jeff is some sort of god sent from above because she can do so much better and he could do much worse. Ella's just too stupid to notice that. Plus her talking is starting to give me a headache.

So I say the one thing that will probably shut her up. "Jeff said that I would make a great porn star. He went over how I had the criteria and everything. He said he wanted to co-star in my movies and if not co-star, watch them."

I roll my eyes, but Ella's there with her mouth open and a furious look in her eyes. Good. I promptly turn away and walk up the stairs, escaping Ella's shocked, envious look.

It's for her own good, but I hate watching my sister get hurt.

**Review? Please?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi.**

**Sorry for the wait to update but I was sent to **_**camp**_** by my parents. And I would've been cool with it if they hand't sent me to **_**camp for the mentally unstable.**_

**But either way, the wait was unacceptable. So here's chapter four.**

**Highlight of the day: Forgetting to put the lid on the blender as I made a smoothie. Not a pretty sight.**

"Max, come on," Megan is begging me. "We need you this year or else we're going to lose. What about your scholarship?"

"Meg, I said no. I'm done with that stuff," I answer as firmly as possible and just keep walking at my inhuman pace with her half-running to keep up. I would really appreciate it if she would just give up and go bother someone else.

But I have no such luck.

"But you were the best player on our team!" Megan practically yells at me now. She would get so dramatic over _soccer._ Other people in the hallways are staring now, waiting for some kind of showdown or whatever.

So I turn around and face her because she's really making a scene and I can't have gossip about that circling. People have a tendancy to make things seem worse than they actually are. "Megan, I just can't," think fast, think fast... "It's because of JJ okay? I just can't play because it's too painful. I'm sorry."

I'm starting to fake the tears when she puts a careful hand on my shoulder. Bingo. "Shit, I'm sorry Max, I understand. It's just that the girls miss having you as captain, you know?"

I must say, it's a moving performance. I deserve a fucking Oscar. I don't even need a script and my lines are flawless. "It's okay Meg, it's not your fault. And you guys will have a great team, you really don't need me. I just always wanted you guys to think that so you wouldn't kick me off."

I shoot her the perfect embarrassed smile and she returns a grin. "It's cool. I'll see you around sometime. I'll tell the other girls to lay off you, but some might ask again anyways, just as a warning."

I pause politely. "Thanks Meg. Really."

She waves it off. "Just because we aren't on a sports team together anymore doesn't mean that we still can't get along."

**Page Break**

"From what these records say you used to be really involved with the community. You played multiple sports teams, tutored publically for no charge, you coached childrens' soccer, you participated in several fundraisers for cancer and programs to help underprivelliged teens and kids in the city."

"That sort of stuff looks good on a college application," I say offhandedly, picking at my fingernails. I really need to cut them down. More like hack them down with a saw. I can't even remember the last time I cut them.

Dr. Wyatt sends me an amused smile. "So you wanted to go to college?"

A look of disbelief crosses my face because I can't believe she hadn't figured that out for herself because it's so fucking obvious. "Well duh."

"So what changed your mind?"

Without skipping a beat I reply, "I just was always working so hard and that's all I really ever did, and one day I decided that I didn't want to go off to college to spend even more time just slaving over school. It's really stressful and I just snapped eventually. I decided I didn't want to have to work that hard."

It's a half truth, so I don't have to feel bad about it. It's not like I'm _really _lying.

Dr. Wyatt nods. "What about sports?"

"I'd spent years and years training, so I eventually I wanted to quit. I mean, I had college scouts fighting over me and, well, I really did not want to spend four hours a day for the next four years doing track and soccer. I wanted to have friends and party and relax."

"What about your marks?"

Right. "They weren't as good as they used to be, but I didn't expect them to be absolutely fabulous, you know?"

Understatement. _Major _understatement.

**PAGE BREAK**

"Not your best work Max," Mr. Gartener places the test on my desk so I can see the big fat 58% scrawled in red sharpie at the top of the test. For some reason he felt the need to draw a big sad face in the center of the test to prove the shittiness of the mark because that's the kind of asshole Mr. Gartener is.

"How'd you do Max?" Jeff peers over my shoulder, but stops short when he catches sight on the huge frowny face. "Oh."

I sigh. I hadn't taken into account how much time I had to put into being popular and how much time I need to study if I want to pass my classes with decent marks. Being popular is more time consuming then I originally had thought when creating the plan. But we've all got crosses to bear. "It's okay Jeff. I just had a bad test. I'll make up for it with the next assignment."

His brow furrows. "Want me to tutor you or something? I could really teach you something about biology. Well, experimental biology."

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and it's enough to make me forget about the big fat 58% I'm going to have to explain to my mom. I roll my eyes at him. "Right. You just keep dreaming."

The bell sounds loudly, and students get up to leave the classroom. I pack all my stuff into my bag and swing it over my shoulder while Jeff waits patiently for me at my desk-side. What a saint.

"Max can I talk to you for a moment?" Mr. Gartener asks.

"Um, sure," I reply before mouthing a 'sorry' to Jeff.

He shakes his head. "I'll wait for you outside. Good luck."

He gives my arm a small squeeze, and despite the fact Jeff can be a total sexist pig, I kind of like having him as a friend sometimes. I turn and walk over to Mr. Gartener. "Is there a problem?"

Mr. Gartener slowly slides his glasses off and rubs his forehead. "Is everything at home okay lately? I mean, you were my best student last year and I was wondering if there was a family issue or something..."

He's so awkward that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "No, nothing is wrong at home."

He let's out a deep breath. "Okay. All the teacher's went to a workshop in the summer about spotting kids in the classroom who might be having a hard time at home, so I'm legally supposed to ask you that. Anyway, I was wondering why you didn't try out for any of the sports teams this year."

I shrug. "I just didn't want to. I have other things to do and with my marks slipping I think I need to focus a bit more on my schoolwork, don't you think? I really want to do well in this class."

It's a load of bullshit if there ever was one but Mr. Gartener accepts it anyways and dismisses me. I walk out of the classroom to where Jeff is waiting patiently outside the door.

"What was that about?" Jeff asks as soon as I pass him.

I shrug nonchalantly and keep walking. "Same old stuff about marks. All the teachers have just been riding me about it recently."

I internally smack myself a second after I say it and Jeff grins. "All the teachers are riding you? Wow Max, I knew you weren't a nun but that's pretty slutty."

I punch him lightly in the arm. "I hope I never get access to your mind because it's so ridiculously dirty that after three seconds, I'll be scarred forever."

"Probably," Jeff agrees, "Or you'll be incredibly turned on. Probably the latter."

"Oh, definitely," I laugh as we exit the school and head out back to the 'reading circle' the school built a few years back. It's basically a group of logs clustered under a few trees. Very cliche, but that tends to be where we end up eating anyway. I guess it could be worse: we could have our own designated cafeteria table that no one else could sit at and that would be the epitome of cliche.

When we get there, Lissa and Nick are already waiting. "What took you so long?"

"Teacher wanted to talk to me," I brush off smoothly. That's the thing about being popular: you aren't supposed to have anything wrong with you, despite the fact that it's absolutely impossible.

I learned that the hard way.

I take the seat between Nick and Jeff, a spot that almost all the girls in the school would kill for. I can actually understand why. Nick has the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him. He has messy, a little-too-long hair and olive toned skin. Not to mention his great jaw line and muscles. But the killer? His eyes. As chessy as it is, they're like a dark tunnel to your soul; they go on forever. Nick and Jeff make the perfect team as best friends because for whatever girls aren't into Nick's quiet, mysterious persona, are into Jeff who is loud and open. Total opposites so that they cater to the majority of girls.

Despite how much I'm against sexist, cocky guys like that, I have to admit that they're pretty smart. Just saying.

"What did you do this time Max?" Nick whispers to me quietly.

"Just wrote a bad test," I try to answer as quietly as him but I don't think that's even humanly possible.

He nods, so slightly that I wouldn't even notice it if I hadn't been expecting it. Although he hardly talks, I find it pretty easy to read Nick, well at least now that I understand how to. He makes up with his lack of words with simple actions; tightening his jaw, the slight twitch of his eye, blinking at certain times. Maybe a picture is really worth more than a thousand words.

But that doesn't mean that I think he's an okay person. I still hate him.

"There's a party a Taylor Rossman's this Friday," Lissa tells us while picking at her tiny garden salad.

I reach into my bag and pull out an apple, shining it on my shirt for a few seconds before taking a bite. "Does it sound promising?"

"It sounds pretty good," Lissa nods, "I mean lots of drinks, pool, bonfire, hot tub, huge house. Overall it seems like it could be fun."

Jeff rolls his eyes. "That's what you said about the last party and that was a blow."

Lissa blushes. "I'm sorry about that one. It was _supposed_ to be good but then someone forgot to buy drinks and then no one showed up. Technically, it's not my fault."

"Shut up guys," I defend Lissa like the great best friend I am. I turn towards her. "We'll go."

She smiles genuinely and mouths a quick 'thanks'. "So meet up and go?"

"Sure, sure," Jeff sighs in defeat. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Thanks Jeffy!" Lissa smiles mockingly and we all laugh at him. Well, Nick smirks, but the fact that he's showing emotion openly is good enough for everyone.

I tuck a stand of hair behind my ear. "So get ready at your house?"

"Mmhmm," Lissa nods. "Come over before and we can decide on what to wear and do our hair and stuff."

"Sounds great."

But it really doesn't sound great because I don't particularly like parties. I didn't like them before because of my claustrophobia and social awkwardness, but now I also don't like the people, lack of boyfriend to spend the entire night with, and the idea that I actually know everyone there. People who think I'm still pretty perfect.

I can't wait to see their faces when they figure out the truth. The idea leaves me digging my small ballet flats into the grass.

The lawn is perfectly manicured, every single blade. _Sam must have mowed our lawn for us again, _I think as I make my way up to my house. I'm tired and I deserve a nap. Being best friends with the most high maintenance human being in the world is a tiring job. I deserve a trophy after this.

I flop down on the couch and kick off my shoes. I pull the claw clip out of my hair and let the mass of tangles free. I attempt to run a hand through it, but half way through I accept that nothing can fix it at this point. I lean my head back and close my eyes for a few moments. I pretend to not hear my mom as she walks around the couch anxiously. I can hear her light, nervous footsteps as she paces back and forth a few times.

"Max?"

I open my eyes. If there's one person in the world that I have trouble saying no to, it's my mom, Valencia Martinez. I can officially say that she is the best mom in the world, hands down. No argument. She's a pretty Hispanic woman in her forties (I'm not going to say specifics for her sake). She has long, dark hair with big chocolate eyes and a warm smile. Ella's her spitting image while I resemble my dad much more.

My dad and my mom weren't married, nor were they together. They were both looking for a child but didn't have someone so they co-created me (insemination: look it up) and then shared me (it's not as inhumane as it sounds). My dad, Jeb Batchelder, is a scientist. He has blonde hair and blue eyes, and fair skin. I used to see him all the time but then he moved to Colorado and I decided to stay with my mom instead of go with him. He still calls me from time to time but it's not nearly the same as before.

My mom walks over and sits on the arm of the couch, smoothing out my messy hair. "The coaches called me. They want you to play again."

"I don't want to play anymore," I answer plainly.

Mom looks at me with concern. "Are you sure? If this a some phase you're going through I don't want it to affect the rest of your life. Colleges are still trying to see if you'll play for their athletic teams," she smiles sadly. "I just don't want you to regret this decision in a few years."

I almost cave. I mean, this is my mom; the one person in the world I can still depend on. I clench my fists because I need to toughen up and stick to the plan. I _knew_ this wasn't going to be easy when I created the plan and I just have to do what I have to do. No loopholes.

"I'm sorry Mom," I whisper. "I just can't do it all anymore. I want to graduate and go to college without all the stress of a sports team."

"Then it's okay," she murmurs, just to prove how she's the best mom in the world. She's non-invasive and she lets me make my own decisions.

"By the way," she adds, standing up. "Total came in to the clinic today. Angel asked when you were going to play with her and Gazzy again. They miss you a lot."

**This line contains the magical power to break a page. Nbd.**

"Did you ever feel like your mom was closer or cared more about your sister?"

I lean back to lie down on the couch. "No. I think my sister thought I was the more loved one."

Dr. Wyatt furrows her brow. "Why would she think that?"

I stretch out my back before answering. "To be honest it was because I was better than her at everything. I'd always been smarter and more athletic. Adults in the community liked me better because of all the volunteer work I did. And then, as if to make things worse, I was better at being popular, something she had aspired for since junior high. Sometimes she hated me for it."

"Well what do you think about that?"

I shrug. "Ella's Ella. I don't understand her. We were never really _that_ alike."

Dr. Wyatt starts to tap her pencil against her leg. "But why would she resent you for it?"

"Because everything she wanted really badly, I hardly had to even try to get it. That would have been very frustrating for her—well, it would be for anyone—but she always blamed me for it instead of actually being proactive about it. She'd complain 'How do you get to be team captain so easily?' even though it was because I was the best player. And then, after sulking about it she wouldn't go and train or anything like I used to work my ass off."

"You always did better than Ella?"

I nod. "Pretty much."

Dr. Wyatt stops tapping her pencil. "You know your mom gave me Ella's diary to look through. She wasn't one of those consistent writers but she had a couple entries every now and then."

"I didn't know Ella kept a diary," I manage to sound nonchalant but I'm having an interior panic attack. Who knows what secrets Ella wrote in there and _oh god my mom probably read it._

Dr. Wyatt raises an eyebrow. "Really? Most of the entries are about you."

My heart stops for a second and I pray for the best option. "Hate stuff?"

Dr. Wyatt nods. "Mostly. Some stuff about soccer, report card marks, popularity; but there was one entry that really stuck out. I photocopied it for you."

She hands me a piece of paper from her folder. I take it with tentative hands as I read:

_I hate Max. I hate her soooo much. Everyone thinks she's a fucking perfect little angel but she's the biggest fucking bitch in the whole entire fucking universe. Why does she have to take everything I want away from me? Other times it hurt but this time? I want to kill her. She knew how I felt and then she went ahead with him anyways and it hurts. What a fucking skank she is she just had to go fuck him._

_It's not enough for her to have everything in the entire fucking world but she also has to flaunt it in my face as if to say "haha you'll never have anything this good". And I would've been okay with the fact that she's a fucking whore if she had been able to keep it in her pants _just this once. _And worst of all, mom let's her get away with everything because "Max is in a sensitive time of her life and I need to respect that". She had a tough summer, she can deal with it. Mom always makes excuses for Max: she's under the stress of college application, she has sports to deal with, she's having problems dealing with her father and her emotions towards him, she's having friend problems. FUCK YOU MAX I SUFFER FROM MOST OF THAT SHIT TOO AND OTHER SHIT LIKE THE FACT THAT MY SISTER IS A FUCKING HYPOCRITE. Yeah. Max always told me not to screw around with guys, especially if they aren't my boyfriend, but she was juggling with fucking two different guys. FUCK HER._

_I hate that bitch more than I've ever hated anyone before._

I cough awkwardly. "Well that was pleasant. I didn't know one could use the would 'fuck' so many times in one paragraph."

Dr. Wyatt smirks for a second before her professional face comes back. "Those were some pretty strong emotions. What did you do to make her so mad?"

I stare at the ceiling. "She was into a guy that I was... close with."

**Page Break**

I check my phone. 3:55.

I slouch down farther onto the bench. I'm sitting outside the school in that area where the kids who can't drive or don't own a car have to wait for their parent's to come pick them up. I'm the only person who's still waiting here though. I'm waiting for Jeff, who is currently writing a math test he missed while at a football game, and I'm patiently waiting for him finish. It's a nice day today; the sun is out, it's not too hot, and every once in a while a cool breeze runs through the parking lot. I close the book I'm reading and put it in my backpack. It's something dumb about a sparkling vampire that Nudge gave me to read, insisting that it is the "best book ever made". _Clearly she lied_. I pick at some small stain on my school uniform skirt before checking my phone again. 3:57.

I'm about to give up on waiting when Jeff makes his way out of the school doors. _Finally._

"Hey Jeff," I corner him before he can leave. There's only a few cars left in the lot—probably staff—but I still spot Jeff's Benz amoung them. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Kind of already did that," he answers cheekily. I refrain from hitting him.

I look up at him. He's ridiculously tall, reaching 6' 3". "I have a propsition."

I swallow down hard. This is offcially the weakest moment in my academic life. Jeff sends me a questioning look. "What exactly are you proposing?"

I clear my throat. I can do this. "Well you know that I'm not doing too well in school recently, especially in Biology and Physics, so..."

"You want me to tutor you?" Jeff inquires. He's got that really innocent look to him that makes me almost back out of asking. Almost. But I have to do this.

I laugh nervously. "Um, not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of copying your stuff."

Jeff makes the most incredulous face. It makes me feel even more stupid than I already do. "The great Maximum Ride has to _copy_ my work?"

I'm blushing like crazy because I'm so ashamed of myself for having to ask to copy. I've never copied anyone before in my life. _Never. _"Shut up Jeff. Are you going to let me or not?"

He strokes his pretend beard in thought. I want to hit him. "Well you see, I don't just _give_ out my notes for people to just copy like that. You intend on paying me?"

I freeze. I can't afford to pay Jeff for his homework. I don't have nearly enough money and I'm not going to ask my mom for money so I can _cheat_. This isn't going to work, I'm screwed...

Then a brilliant idea comes to me. It's awful, but once I've thought it up I can't _unthink _it. And good ideas like that can't just _go to waste_, can they? It would hit two objects on the plan at the same time. Like that saying, kill two birds with one stone (what kind of person would want to kill birds with rocks though?).

"What if I paid you with favours?" I ask vaguely.

"What does that mean?" Jeff asks innocently.

This is the skankiest thing I've ever done. "I do something for you and you let me copy your homework."

He's still standing there with a ridiculously confused expression on his face so I just go ahead and kiss him, tongue and everything. He's so shocked at first that he freezes up before kissing me back. I'm standing right on my tiptoes just to be able to reach him and I hook my arms around his neck while he grabs hold of my waist and pulls me closer. He leans down farther and slants his head so we can kiss better. I count a solid amount of time (one minute, thirty seconds) before I break from him, but stay close enough for him to hear me whisper, "Something like that."

His breathing is more ragged than mine and his eyes are kind of glazed over. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a binder and pulls out a sheet of lined paper, handing it over to me. "Give it back by tomorrow."

He starts to walk away but I grab onto his arm. "Let's keep this our little secret. Don't tell anyone, not even Nick or Lissa. Please?"

He nods, but he still looks kind of dazed. "Sure thing."

"And Jeff?" I add. "Thanks."

He runs a pale hand through his blond hair. He looks hot, but at the same time kind of cute. Maybe I can understand why Ella thinks he's such hot shit. He grins at me. "Thank _you _Max."

He walks to his car slowly, and I turn away to walk home. I know I'm doing this because I need to, and I know that Jeff's absolutely fine with the situation, but I just can't stop the heavy feeling of guilt developing in my gut.

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey!**

**It's a little late, I know, but better late than never?**

**Also, I try to resond to most reviews (if I don't get to yours, it's probably a mistake I made. Sorry.) But I got an anonymous review (Deanna) which asks a lot of questions which got me thinking. And after reading what I've written so far, I realize just how confusing it is. Like I was super confused, and I **_**wrote **_**it. So I'm goin to try to clear some stuff up.**

**Page breaks symbolize a change in time. There are three time period being alternated between.**

**The parts with JJ and when Dylan and Max are together come first chronologically. They take place at the end of Max's junior year of highchool. These are flashbacks.**

**The parts with Max, Lissa, Nick and Jeff take place starting around the beginnnign of senior year an move forward throughout senior year. These are also flashbacks**

**The parts with the psychiatrist are in the present.**

**The flashbacks aren't exactly Max thinking back on that particular time, but it's more like three different sotries are being told and the contents kind of relate to each other at certain points. I don't know if anything in the last sentence makes any sense, but I can't explain it any better than that.**

**So to answer Deanna's questions:**

**Q: What happened to JJ? Cuz you mention her but I don't really know what happened.**

**A:Something happened between Max and JJ and JJ isn't around anymore, but I really can't say more than that.**

**Q: Why is Max being a slut and hanging out with Lissa and them?**

**A: Max is doing that stuff because... I can't really explain this one. Yet. But it's part of the plan.**

**Q: What is this "plan" she keeps talking about?**

**A: Uhhhh, I can't really say what the plan is without giving away the entire story.**

**Q: Why is she going to therapy? It can't just be because she's not doing perfectly in school. Is it?**

**A: No, Max going for therapy isn't due to the fact she's doing badly in school. It's more because she's messed up... and some other stuff. But I'll let you figure that stuff out later **

**So I hope that clears some stuff up.**

**Highlight of the day: I went on a 26 killstreak on cod. Nuff said.**

_Ding dong!_

The obnoxious ring of the doorbell snaps me out of my trance. I check the clock only to that I had been staring at the same screen for over ten minutes. Fuck! In a attempt to catch up and get back on schedule—this is exam time and I have a strict study plan—I speed-read through the paragraph on mitosis when someone clears their throat from behind me.

I whip around so quickly that I almost fall out of my chair. JJ is standing there, leaning against the doorframe oh-so-casually, looking at me with a plain, calm expression. I feel uneasy in my seat, but I don't let my face show it. In fact, I think I look just as impassive as JJ.

Well, at least I hope so.

"You've been ignoring me Max," she points out plainly. I don't confirm or deny it, because I have, in fact, been ignoring her for the past few days. Ever since her threat to tell someone about the panic attacks, I've been trying to avoid her as much as possible, using the same old excuse:

"I've been busy," I answer cooly. I fold my hands together in my lap, just to look a little extra composed.

JJ scowls at me, not buying it. Well obviously, she's not an idiot. "You're always busy, it hardly counts as an excuse. Give it up Max, I'm your bestfriend. I know you."

I can't counter that one. She proababaly knows me better than myself. "Jen, I don't have time for this. Not right now."

"Max, you never have time for anything: that's the problem. You have yourself so tightly wound that you don't even have time to live. You need to stop for a second because you're moving so fast that you don't have timeto breathe. Your going to kill yourself if you don't slow down soon."

I know she's trying to do something nice for my or whatever, but all it does is make me mad. I'm tired of JJ bothering me about this.

"I'm just focused, there's nothing wrong with that. There's no point to running around freely whereas everything I do is totally pointed. Some people are just like that," I cross my arms stubbornly. I wish JJ would just drop this.

JJ shakes her head sadly and walks over to me slowly, sitting at the edge of my bed. "There's a difference between being focused and being obsessed. You," she brushes her long bangs out of her face, "are obsessed with being perfect, and it's not healthly."

I glare at her, "Just because I know what I want and I'm goal oriented doesn't mean I'm unhealthy. Being the best isn't unhealthy."

JJ's calm expression disappears, and is replaced by one that is angry and frustrated. "Fuck Max, when are you going to realize that you're just hurting yourself? You need to learn to make mistakes and live with them because it's going to happen sooner or later and you aren't going to be able to handle it!"

JJ's voice is prgressively rising and her calm facade is gone, gone, gone. She looks genuinely upset. "You're my best friend, and you know I care about you, but there's only so much that I can do! You need help. I've told you that a million times and you can't seem to take me seriously but I mean it. Someday you're going to kill yourself, either because you're going to keep pushing yourself to be perfect until you die or because you'll make mistake you can't live with. And I don't want that to happen!"

Jen's crying now and I'm sitting there dumbstruck because I've never known what to do in times where emotions were being openly expressed. So I think back to what they do in movies as I wrap my arms around JJ and give her a hug. I stumble over my words a few times before I finally get them out. "I just don't know what else to do JJ. I don't know how I'm supposed to act or be. This is all I can do. It's who I am. I've always been like this. I always will be."

JJ wipes her eyes. "You can change, you know. You need to change."

I shake my head slowly while sending her a sad smile. "Maybe I don't want to change. Maybe I'm happy like this. I'm different; I'm okay with that, really."

"You're only happy because you don't know anything else," JJ insists. She runs a few fingers through her mangled hair.

"Let it go for now, I've got exams to study for. We'll talk later," I say to divert from having to get even deeper into things with JJ right now because she's too stubborn to listen to me and we aren't getting anywhere. "After exams are done. I'm still psyched for the party your brother's throwing. It's gonna be sick."

"Yeah," she agrees, reluctantly dropping the conversation for now. "You're coming to my house early to get ready, right? I have that dress in the back of my closet that you've always loved and that looks horrible on me. It's all yours for the night. I'm sure Dylan will love it on you, but even more when it's off."

I blush deep red, hitting her playfully on the shoulder. "Shut up, Jen."

She jumps up and moves out of my arm range so I can't hit her again, heading towards the door. "Keep it safe! I got to go for dinner with the family: my dad just got home from another business trip so we're welcoming him home. Again. His 'welcome home' is pretty much the only time I get to see him so I better enjoy it. I'll see you later Max."

I smile back at my best friend. "Bye."

**PAGE BREAK**

The last bell finally rings and I bolt out of the classroom, depserate to not waste another second of my time in this shit hole. My head hurts from hearing too many formulas in math class and I just want to be out of here, anywhere else would be good. I open my locker up and pull my half-eaten lunch out and shove it in my bag. I pull my biology textbook out aswell; I should study for the test I have tomorrow. I zip up my backpack and pull it onto my shoulders, shutting my locker loudly. Some awkward couple, each with lots of acne, is making out three lockers down and it's fucking disgusting.

I strut past them and whip around the corner only to slam into something pretty solid. I stumble back a few steps before look to see who the _fuck_ had the nerve to get in my way. Proabably some dumb freshman who's in for a beating. Word around the school was the being glared at by the most popular girls in school was absolutely terrifying. Of course, people only said that as soon as I became one of the two most popluar girls at school. Quelle coinkydink.

I'm ready to cuss out this kid, put the fear of God into them and all that shit when I look up to meet the face and I stop cold.

Dylan.

"Shit, I'm sorry Max. You just came around the corner so fast and..." he trails off awkwardly. We're just staring at each other for a second because this is the first time we've talked to each other since I confirmed our break up at a party. He looks good, I'll give him that, and ever since we broke up girls have been all over him, begging for attention he's not willing to give to any of them. His hair has recently been trimmed and it's pushed out of his face so I can see his gorgeous, sea-blue eyes. Instinct tells me that I should be holding his hand, kissing his cheek, letting him wrap a protective arm around me.

But we can't do that anymore, so instead I just do nothing. We continue to stare at each other pointlessly for what seems like forever.

Eventually he coughs awkwardly. He smiles nervously. It's kind of cute. But that doesn't mean anything. "So how are you doing?"

"Okay," I answer evasively. I don't want to have this conversation with him; that strange awkward conversation that couples that break up have in which they decide that they're going to be friends. I don't want to be Dylan's friend. I want him to disappear. I want us to act like we've never even _talked _ to each other before.

But I'm not that lucky.

He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up messily. "I miss you."

Well at least he hasn't changed: he's still blunt as ever. I awkwardly scratch my arm. I've never known what to do in situations like this. I feel fidgety.

Dylan's face falls. He's leans over me, trapping me against the wall the way he used to when he was trying to steal a kiss before class what seemed like a lifetime ago. It makes my nervous, it feels too much like before. His face is inches from mine and _oh my god I can't breathe_. It's _too _much like before and I feel sick. My throat feels constricted and my head's starting to get dizzy when it finally occurs to me that _oh my god I'm about to have a panic attack right in front of Dylan._

"I can't think about anyone but you, Max," he whispers, but I only half-hear it because I'm trying to focus on breathing right now but _I can't, I can't, I can't._ I'm trying to take in air, but it's as if my lungs are rejecting it and I'm getting lightheaded.

"I-I-I-I got to... um go," I stutter. I try to break away from him, but he won't have it as he grabs my arm holding me back, I try to push away from him, but I really don't want to make a scene.

"Dylan, let go of me and fuck off," I growl. It's a low, terrifying sound but Dylan's determined and I can't do shit about it. I glare at him fiercley. "Dylan, get the fuck off of me."

His calm exterior has deteriorated and I'm seeing him for how he really feels: hurt and angry. He pushes me against the nearest wall, leaving me hopelssly trapped as he brings his face to be only inches away from mine. "You know, you always told me what I had to do and I always did it because I just always wanted to make you happy, you know? And then the one time I try to help you, like really help you, you drop me so fast that I'm left in your dust. I don't get you Max, I really don't. It's like I don't even know who you are."

My legs feel shaky and I'm struggling to keep air filling my lungs. "Dylan stop."

"Fuck you Max—"

Dylan gets cut off by a loud: "What the _fuck _is going on?"

I turn and Nick's there, all tall, dark, and terrifying. Dylan backs off of me and I scramble away from him and down the hall, my footsteps loud against the floor, and I'm just trying to get to the nearest washroom as fast as possible because I think I'm going to throw up, but I don't think I'm going ot make it so I turn into a small corner in a deserted hallway before I collapse on the floor and put my head between my knees. _In, out, in, out. You can breathe Max. In, out._

This is embarassing. I _hate_ breaking down in public places.

I eventually get up, but I feel a million years older. My last panic attack had been several months ago. I'm supposed to be stronger than this. I'm not supposed to let things like this get to me anymore. I'm not supposed to let myself because I don't deserve to. I shouldn't have panic attacks anymore. I thought I was over them.

I guess not.

I shakily get onto my feet, leaning heavily against the wall for support, I brush my hair back out of my face. _It's okay, everything is under control, I'm _fine.

I repeat that in my mind a few times, but my head hurts like my skull is about to split in half and all my brains are going to fall out and onto the ground in a bloody, tissue-y mess.

Well isn't that a lovely thought.

I straighten out my skirt, checking to make sure it hadn't ridden all the way up in the back, and I'm checking to make sure that my shirt was still tucked in when I hear a low,awkward cough.

My head whips up to see Nick there, looking at me with concern. Well, at least his eyes portray concern. The rest of his face is smooth as stone. "You okay?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He raises an eyebrow quizically. "Really? Because you looked like you were dying up there with your ex."

"He has that effect on me," I retort quickly. "It was nothing really. He was just being a dick."

"When is he _not_ being a dick?" Nick jokes, but at the same time he's serious. I guess their little rivallry is still, in fact, very intact. Boys will be boys, I guess. Nick's eyes widen a fraction of a millimetre. "So how did you get to school?"

"Lissa drove me," I answer nonchalantly.

"Lissa?" a small look of confusion crosses his eyes. "I thought she wasn't at school today."

I snort. "She came for homeroom so she could get her homework and then left to go to a spa day with her mom. It's supposed to be bonding time for them. I think it's just heir excuse to get mani-pedis."

He smiles slightly. "So how are you getting home?" He asks. His black hair is falling into his dark eyes, and with the leather jacket he's wearing I can see why girls love his "bad boy" look.

I shrug. "I was just going to walk. It's not _that_ far."

He put's his hands into his pockets. "I could drive you home. It's on my route anyways so it's not like it would be a problem."

I hesitate. I don't really want to be around anyone, especially not after having a panic attack. And plus, someone's bound to see me getting in Nick's car, which would be okay if Lissa was here, but without her it looks sort of suspicious and rumors spread like wildfire around this school. And besides, I hate him.

On the other hand, I just really want to get home, and God knows if Dylan's going to try to jump me again. So I find myself smilling and nodding at Nick. Even though I don't like him, I reply with, "That would be great. Thanks."

We walk out of the school and over to his car. It's nothing special. A plain, silver 2006 Ford Focus that his mom and dad let him drive around whenever he wants it. I toss my backpack into the backseat and then hop into the shotgun spot, fastening up my seatbelt. Nick gets into the car a few moments after I do, sitting down, seatbelting up, and checking the mirror before sticking the keys in the ignition. He slowly backs out of the parking spot and heads out towards the road.

I lean back and slouch in my seat, letting myself relax for the first time today. I'd gotten another failed test back today. I'm not doing well, but every time I sit down to study I just stare at it, not able to make myself.

It's killing my marks.

Nick coughs uneasily. "So you know how Lissa's birthday is coming up in a few weeks?"

Yes, I knew. Lissa had only mentioned it a thousand times. She treats liks it's some national holiday that everyone _needs_ to know about. "Mmhmm."

Nick runs a hand through his thick black hair. Lissa always said it was super silky. I pretended to care, because that's the kind of nice best friend I am. Nick waits a moment before speaking. "You're her best friend; what would she want for her birthday? I suck at gift-giving."

"You and me both," I sigh.

He smirks at me. It's his signature look, all the girls at school swoon at the sight of it. Lame.

I smirk back. "Lucky for me, I can just buy her a Starbucks gift card and a fashionable sweater and it'll be okay. Sadly, you aren't as fortunate."

He raises a confused eyebrow. "Why can't it be that easy for me?"

I roll my eyes, and look at him the way I'd look at a dumb five year-old. He might as well be. "Because you're the boyfriend. You," I poke him in the arm, "are supposed to think of some deep, emotional gift that represents your relationship in order to show where she stands with you relationship-wise."

"Really?" he blinks, his version of total astonishment. "Does it really have to be so complicted and... mushy?"

"Well, this is Lissa we're talking about," I snort. "She just likes to have emotions displayed on the table, heart on her sleeve. She loves emotional stuff. Somehow it seems to not be your style though."

I nearly laugh because he has that face that guys put on when they can't understand girls. I remember seeing it on Dylan all the time when we were...

Dylan. The events from ten minutes ago rush over me all over again and I can feel the blood leave my face.

"Hey, you okay?" Nick shoots me a worried look.

I hate it when people give me that look. I hate it even more on _him_. "I'm probably just coming down with something. I've been feeling like shit all day."

But that really had nothing to do with being sick. This morning when I had woke up, Ella and I had gotten into a fight. Lately it's become a habit with her and it always makes me feel bad. Then I have the shittiest day. It seems to be a reoccurring pattern.

Oh joy.

Nick turns onto my driveway and stops the car. I send a small, forced smile at him. "Thanks."

He shrugs. "It's no problem, really. I guess I'll see you around with Lissa? Tell me if you get any good gift ideas for me."

"Don't hold any expectations. I kind of want you to fail at giving her a gift and have her scream at you. Just because it's _you_." I sling my backpack over my shoulder and shut the passenger side door, walking up to the front door and unlocking it. The alarm goes off as soon as I enter. Huh, that's funny. Normally Ella's home before me, so she takes it off. I wonder what she's doing, although I don't really care.

I kick off my shoes and walk up to my bedroom, dropping my backpack onto the ground carelessly. It makes a large _thud!_ as it hits the ground. Dman textbooks. I roll my shoulders out, but I'm still feeling out of it, this panic attack has taken a toll on me. I've let myself get soft. It's rattled me a little _too_ much. I pace my room anxiously for a few minutes before going straight to my closet and easily find my old running shoes. I pull a pair of neglected running shorts from my dresser along with a dark grey sports bra. I slip a tank top over it. I remove it after a second, remembering how blisteringly hot it is today. I lace up my shoes and head out to the local park a block down from my house where there are running trails.

I won't admit this to anyone, but I do miss being on school sports teams. I miss having something that I don't have to think about. I miss that feeling of losing myself in athletics. I miss that good feeling I allowed myself to have everytime I deked someone out in soccer, or if I scored at goal. I miss the burning feeling I got in my legs when I ran 100 m sprints, the feeling like my legs were on fire on the inside but I still pushed it until the sensation was beyond words.

I untie up my shoe laces, then retie them, then untie them and retie them, repeating until they feel like their perfect. I start my run. My legs are in protest since I haven't done anything remotely physical for months but I push them anyways until I finally settle into my stride and pick a pace, speeding up everytime I start to get comfortable. Eventually I stop thinking, and I have absolutely nothing my mind anymore, and I can't feel a thing.

I guess that's good though. When you can't feel anything you can't get hurt.

It's as close as you can get to being invincible.

**PAGE BREAK**

Dr. Wyatt's hand is tapping her leg. "What did it feel like? Breaking up with Dylan."

"Well it wasn't like I was going to be getting laid anymore. That sucked."

Dr. Wyatt sends me that look that teachers give you when you're being sarcastic.

I sigh. "I don't know. I don't possess emotions."

"Sure you do," Dr. Wyatt says flatly. "Otherwise, you'd be a robot. Or, you know, dead. And you seem very much alive right now."

I think I would rather be dead now then have to be here. I decide that I might as well answer her. I want to go home. "Breaking up with Dylan was like...I don't know. I try not to have emotions. I don't know how to feel them."

"Why?"

"Emotions hurt. I stopped having them a long time ago. I can be angry, but I can't feel anything beyond that. I'm not even too fond of being happy."

"Why?"

I glower at her. "Can you say anything else?"

"I just want to know why Max," She leans back casually in her seat. "I mean, you have the what, where, when, how; yet no one knows _why._"

"Maybe things are best that way. People like what they don't know."

Dr. Wyatt stared at me. "Do they _really_?"

"People need lies," I answer, half there, half somewhere far away. "They need something they want to believe, and it's amazing how far people will go to have something they want to believe."

"You'd think people would want to know the truth."

I shake my head. "A lie is just a great story that someone ruined with the truth. People would rather have a lie they could live with than have to face an ugly truth. People rely on their false realities. Without them ever realizing it, I always gave them what they really wanted; they just didn't know it."

**So could you like, please review? I don't even care what you say. If you have questions, don't hesitate to ask because even I get confused by myself. And If something about the story bothers you, tell me.**

**Meows**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello.**

**Here's Chapter 6. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Highlight of the Day: "How I Met You Mother" marathon. What up!**

**Sad point of the day: I just figured out that All Time Low is coming to my city and I'm going to be away that day :'(**

Jeff's mouth is on my neck, on my jaw, on my lips. His arms are looped tightly around me, drawing me close to his chest until there's no space left between us. I don't object, I can't. I draw my arms up around his neck, my fingers twist into his strawberry hair and I kiss him back. I left his hands down my back, to my waist; let them play at the edge of my shorts, clumsily grasping at my belt buckle. I can't stop him. I don't want to do this though, not today.

Today is Ella's birthday, and all I can think is how mad Ella would be if she saw me and Jeff like this, if she knew that I was messing around with him.

She would want to kill me.

My phone starts to ring loudly, and we break apart. I'm thankful for it because I haven't had sex with Jeff yet and I don't want to have sex with Jeff yet. I push Jeff away and put my finger to my lips. _Shhh._

I slide my BlackBerry out of my back pocket take a deep breath, and then hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"Max, where are you?"

My mom. She's already given me a speech on how she wants me to be at Ella's birthday party and that I'm not supposed to do anything that will make Ella want to cry: no fights, no snide remarks, no sass.

I wonder if she gave this speech to Ella because 99% of the time, our fights are started by her.

"Mom, I'm hanging out with Jeff and we're working on some Biology homework. I'll be home in ten minutes or so."

I can practically _hear_ my mom grimacing through the phone. "Okay. Hurry up."

She hangs up, just like that. No 'I love you sweetie' or anything. She used to say stuff like that to me. She used to be so proud of me all the time. But that was before.

I turn to Jeff after sliding my phone back into my jeans pocket. "I've got to get home. It's my sister's birthday party."

Jeff's face falls in disappointed, like a kid whose ice cream falls to the ground. He pouts like a five year old. "Do you have to?"

I scowl at him. "You're going to be at Ella's birthday party. It's not like you're going to miss me."

"I know," he smiles, "but the party is hours away. It gives me plenty of time to miss you. But I'll cope." He reaches to his bedside table, grabbing a couple sheets of paper (the latest biology assignment to copy) and giving them to me. He stands. "Come on. I'll give you a ride home."

**Page Break**

"What are you doing Max?"

I turn to JJ. I smile innocently as if I wasn't doing anything. "I was just putting some stuff away."

JJ laughs at me. This isn't the first time she's caught me cleaning her room. "You don't have to clean my room for me Max; I'm perfectly capable, despite what you think."

I stick my tongue out at her childishly. "Whatever you say. By the way, what should I wear for the party?"

"Max," she sends me a funny look as if I'm crazy, "the party isn't for another week or so. Why on Earth are you deciding on what to wear _now_? I said you could borrow something from me."

I blush, embarrassed. "I just want to look perfect."

She sends me a skeptical look. "You _always_ look perfect Max. And I'm not just flattering you. You wouldn't be able to survive if you didn't look perfect at every moment, and you know it."

I would glare at her, but I'm too tired today. I deserve to rest for a bit. Today I had studied for five hours before going to coach Gazzy's soccer team, and then I studied for another two hours after getting home. I've been stressing over exams. I walk over to her bed, which I just made, and lay down. I close my eyes for a few seconds.

"Do you ever wish that you could just disappear off the face of the Earth?" I say out of the blue.

JJ is silent for a while. "What do you mean?"

I sigh. "Sometimes I wish I could just walk away from everything and disappear. Just be gone. Vanish."

"Why?"

I open my eyes so slightly that they still appear closed, but enough so I can see JJ's worried face as she looks at me. "Because then I wouldn't have anything to worry about anymore. I could relax."

"You could now, if you wanted. You could relax and stop worrying about everything at this very moment," JJ says without so much as looking at me. Instead, she's staring out of her window, the way she always does when she's deep in thought. Or nervous.

I stare up at her ceiling which is still covered with the glow-in-the-dark stars we threw up there when we were five. I close my eyes tightly. "I wish I knew how."

**Page Break**

"Max, you _cannot_ wear that!" Ella glares at me. "Mom! Max is trying to ruin my party!"

I roll my eyes but I'm still annoyed. I don't see what the big deal is. "What's your fucking problem Ella?"

My mom sighs. "Language Max."

Ella looks like she's going to kill me. I don't know; her nails are looking pretty lethal at the moment. "Max you can't wear that to my party. It's my sweet sixteen, not a freaking football game. You look like you live on the street in a dumpster!"

I think she's exaggerating. Screw that, she's _definitely_ exaggerating. It's a t-shirt and denim shorts, not a garbage bag. Ella's been in hysterics pretty much since I've got home from Jeff's house. She's wearing a sequined gold dress that suits her skin tone. I remember her spending hours at the dress store before picking that one out. And I remember just how large the price tag was.

I'm about to open my mouth to argue with her when Mom shoots me a look that without saying anything tells me _please just change so she'll shut up?_

Since I genuinely love my mom—but more because she looks like she might crack and start murdering us with a chainsaw, and I empathize with her about how annoying Ella can be—I go back up to my room to get changed. I still have a solid two hours before we have to go for the party so I have lots of time to get ready to Ella's expectations.

I groan inwardly. Ella's been a pain in my ass all day. She's practically gone insane over her stupid sweet sixteen and I've been saintly enough not to knock her fucking block off. Or rather, my mom is making me play nice with Ella.

So Ella wants me to dress to her standards? Fine, I'll look absolutely _fabulous._

I take a quick shower, blow dry my hair, and curl it loosely. Ella's always been jealous of my hair because while her hair is just plain black, mine is sun streaked with an assortment of browns, some blondes, and even a little red. I fix the last curl before heading over to my closet.

It takes me a while to find it, but I eventually uncover the red dress that Lissa had forced me to get. Well, she bought it and forced it into my house because I "need to dress up every once in a while".

I'm about to make Lissa a very happy girl.

It's a soft red thing made of satin or some fabric with off-the-shoulder sleeves and it clings ridiculously close that it's even sort of hard for someone as skinny as me to breathe. It reaches a little short of my mid-thigh but still manages to look classy. I slip it on. It's extremely difficult for me to pull the zipper all the way up by myself but I get it eventually. Then I move onto make up.

I settle for a smoky eye and bright red lipstick that makes my entire face pop. I grab my old favourite pair of black pumps and my black clutch before walking down the stairs with a loud "Ready!"

Mom and Ella meet me at the bottom of the stairs and Ella is just about _seething,_ because even with her professionally done hair and makeup, we instantly discern that I look much better than her. Mom doesn't see Ella's death glare and she's over the moon, "Oh Max, you look great! It's been ages since you've looked this good!"

I'm not sure if that's an insult to my everyday attire, but I grin back anyways. "Thank you mom. I'm glad you think it looks good."

Mom claps her hands excitedly. "Oh I'm so blessed to have two gorgeous daughters. Picture time!"

Mom goes to grab the camera from her purse, which she left in the kitchen while I smugly turn towards Ella. "Want to profile this one on facebook?"

Under her breath, she replies angrily. "Fuck you Max."

"I thought you wanted me to look nice Ellie bear?" I play innocent, just because I know it's killing her, slinging my long, tanned arm over her shoulders.

She glowers and shrugs me off before answering icily. "I'm not forgiving you for this one."

"Suit yourself," I answer lightly since she'll be even more mad if I'm not even affected.

And I'm right. She's about to storm off when mom strolls back in with the digital camera in her hand, completely unaware that Ella is so, _so_ mad at me. "Smiles on three!"

I put my free arm around Ella and place my hand with my clutch down at my side. I give my best winning smile while Ella looks like she's grimacing.

I'm such a bitch sometimes, but Ella just makes it so easy.

**Page Break**

I turn to Dr. Wyatt. "When do I get to go home?"

"Whenever I feel is the right time to let you go home," she answers vaguely.

I want to punch her. The other psychiatrists I was before told me that I should refrain from using violence to solve conflict, but the other psychiatrists were also _morons_. "Well this is pathetic. Can't you just figure out what's wrong with me, get me doped up on some intense drugs and let me out?"

She looks at me like I'm insane. Which I might as well be because I'm seeing a fucking _psychiatrist_. "Oh Max, if only it was that easy for you. You need to _earn_ your way back home."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?" I snarl, not even bothering to censor my thoughts. I used to _never_ swear in front of adults but now I'm too far gone to given give a shit _about_ giving a shit. I used to care so much about what everyone thought about me, but now that everyone thinks nothing of me? I'm free to be whoever I feel like.

And most of the time I feel like knocking some reality into everyone's' heads to tell them where they stand.

"When you tell the truth, you go home," she answers, completely unfazed by my outburst. "It's that simple Max."

I almost growl. "Well you're pathetic. I mean, how can you tell if I'm telling the truth anyway?"

**Page Break**

"You know Max, you really do clean up nice."

I whip around, ready to smack whoever has just snuck up behind me. I am rewarded with a grinning Jeff.

His face gets serious. "So I called the cops."

"What!" I exclaim, caught off guard. "Why would you do that?"

He shrugs. "Well I reported what you were wearing and they agreed that it was way too sexy to be legal, but concluded that it would be a crime for you not to show off that gorgeous figure, so you're off the hook."

He resumes his wide smile and I almost hit him because he's being ridiculously cheesy, but Jeff has that sort of jokester, adorable guy thing that lets him get away with being so cheesy and lame. I can't help it; I'm smiling at him, and kind of blushing. I didn't get compliments like that very often before.

"So where's the girl of the hour? Isn't your sister supposed to be at her own sweet sixteen?" Jeff asks innocently.

I roll my eyes. "She has to have a grand entrance. It's got to be super dramatic for her or else the entire night is ruined."

He laughs. "Your sister sounds like a piece of work."

Oh how I know that so well.

"You have no idea Jeff," I sigh.

**Page Break**

I glance up at the big analog clock on the wall to my right. "It's been over an hour, how much longer can you interrogate me for?"

Dr. Wyatt has an amused look on her face. I hate it. "Come on Max. You can't expect me to just let you go."

"I don't have expectations. I just want to leave."

She smirks. "Well you can't always get want you want."

As if I didn't already know that.

**Page Break**

"Hey gorgeous. That's a _beautiful_ dress you have on there. You have _fantastic_ taste in clothes," Lissa uses that _I told you so_ kind of voice. She's beaming at me because I wore the dress she bought me. She wants to rub it in my face.

I smile anyways. "You don't look too bad yourself."

Lissa looks like a supermodel in her black, strapless dress. Her dark red hair is done in loose waves that fall down her back in a kind of neat mess. And her killer red six-inch heels are just the icing on the cake.

She blushes at my compliment, even though I'm sure she's heard it a million times already. "Thanks Max."

Some Jay-Z song is playing in the background, and kids are dancing. I've only been here for about thirty minutes and I'm already bored out of my mind. But then again, I've never really been the party type.

Lissa looks me over with concern. "Aw Max, I know, it kind of really sucks. But don't worry; I brought some stuff to spice up the night."

She reaches into her large purse and pulls out a flask. I grin devilishly before resuming my serious face. "Lissa, this party is strictly alcohol free."

We crack up laughing a couple seconds later. She catches her breath as she unscrews the lid, taking a swig before passing it to me. "Drink as much as you want. I have another four full ones in my bag."

She pats her purse to reinforce the statement and I don't hesitate to take a drink. Over the past few months I've spent with Lissa going to parties and what not, I've mastered the taste of alcohol, so no more choking as the vodka burns my throat. I guess it's a good thing?

At least, it is right now as I'm trying to drown out the events of Ella's stupid sweet sixteen and everything it entails. I pass it back to Lissa.

She drinks again. "You know, maybe this party will be tolerable. Sort of."

"I'm waiting for some sort of disaster to occur so that we'll have to vacate the building and go home," I say, leaning up against the wall to survey the dance floor. People are grinding to the heavy bass line and I'm in no rush to join them. I straighten out my dress. "It's going to be a long night."

"You bet it is," Lissa winks at me. Handing me the flask again. "But for you and me, the party has just begun."

And I wish it would end just as quickly as it began.

But I learned a long time ago that wishes don't tend to come true. Whether you make them on 11:11, wishing wells, on coins you throw into fountains, on shooting stars, on fucking _airplanes_; your dad doesn't come visit you and you don't your best friend doesn't come back.

So here I am, hours later, searching for my new best friend. I'd lost Lissa about an hour ago and when she left my sight she had been intoxicated out of her mind. I tear across the crowded dance floor but I'm a little dizzy because I had been drinking too.

I stop and think. When exactly had I seen Lissa last? The details are a little fuzzy, but it was sometime not too long after Ella's cake was cut. Hmmm...

I turn so quickly I slam into someone, almost falling over. "Ouch Max, watch where you're going before you hurt yourself."

It's Jeff. He helps straighten me so I'm standing solidly.

I fix my dress which has slid down showing a little too much cleavage. "Have you seen Lissa?"

He frowns at me. "I haven't seen her since she started the second flask. By the way, you should've left your dress the way it was. I was enjoying the view."

I'm most definitely _not_ in the mood to put up with his perverted comments, so I push him out of my way as I continue on my search for Lissa. She wasn't in the washroom, she wasn't by the food, she wasn't anywhere on the dance floor. Where the hell did she go?

I'm about to hit someone out of frustration when I see someone of potential help leaning against the far wall. I push a couple of juniors out of my way—and they're about to shoot me dirty looks until they realize it's me, and you don't shoot dirty looks at popular people unless you want to die—as I make my way over to Nick, who is sipping on a plastic cup of punch by himself.

I stop in front of him abruptly. "Have you seen Lissa? I lost her over an hour ago," I explain to Nick. He's wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves push up to rest just below his elbows; enough to show his muscular forearms but still leaves his biceps to the imaginations of many drooling girls. His hair is messy, almost as if he just got out of bed, but all of Ella's friends are sending him not-so-secret stares in his direction. And he notices.

As if his ego needs to be inflated _even more_.

Nick looks down at me with his nearly black eyes. I hate the way he looks at me; it's almost condescending. I try to mask the fact that I can't stand him for Lissa's sake because she thinks he's just _the best._ Delusions of grandeur.

He shrugs. "I lost her long before you did."

Exasperated, I slide against the wall next to him. "I don't know how to find her. She's not answering her phone—no texts, no bbms, no calls."

Nick looks at me for a second as if to say _are you seriously so worried?_ He tilts his head back against the wall. "So I guess we just kiss the world goodbye," he says after a moment.

If Lissa was here, she'd be laughing at his little joke and telling him he's hilarious.

And that would be great, except I can't find Lissa. So we're back to the same problem.

I turn my entire body to face Nick, annoyed. "You know, I used to not like you back when I was going out with Dylan and you would constantly go out of your way to make fun of both of us."

Nick smirks his trademark smirk that makes girls swoon as he remembers this. "Dylan, that loser."

I glare. "Well I think I might dislike you even more now than I did then. And that's _really_ saying something."

I turn around swiftly and practically storm away from him. Fine, I'll just find Lissa on my own. Nick's a total prick anyways.

But then I hear him fall in step with me. I'm about to open my mouth to say something vile about him and tell him to go away when he grins widely, catching me off guard. "Well what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help find my wasted girlfriend?"

I don't answer as I keep walking along, but Nick seems determined to help find Lissa so I don't object. I pair of sober eyes would be helpful in this search. We re-check all the areas I had looked for her in before (without success) and I was ready to give up when Nick suggests "Maybe she's hiding in coat check."

I scoff. "Why would she do that?"

"She's drunk. I hardly think she needs to justify her actions."

I roll my eyes. "Okay we'll try, but she's not going to be there."

But sure enough, when we get to the coat room we find Lissa sitting behind the coat rack with one of her flasks (fourth or fifth?) in her hand. When she sees us she smiles. "Hi guys!"

She hiccups and giggles, falling onto her side.

I put my hand to my head. "Oh dear God."

Nick looks at me as if I've gone insane. I flip him off.

"Come on Lissa, we're going to take you home," I say, helping her off the ground. She stumbles and leans onto me and I can smell her breath which absolutely reeks of alcohol.

Nick goes to her other side and helps steady her as we walk her towards to exit. She giggles. "This was fun. We should do this again sometime. Max, where did you go? You missed the best part of the party. Joey Ross said this thing and it was just _sooooooo_ funny."

I humour her and nod. "What funny thing did he say?"

"He said..." A look of concentration crosses her face, followed by confusion. "I can't remember what he said, but it was really, really funny. I promise."

I grunt as I stumble. "I believe you. Maybe if you remember what that funny thing is you can tell me tomorrow or at school on Monday."

She smiles widely. "Okay. You'll laugh so hard when I tell you...whatever it is. You'll think it's funny too, Nick."

His face remains stoic as he nods. "I'm sure I will."

I take most of Lissa's weight as Nick digs around in his pocket for his car keys as he opens the car. He puts Lissa into the passenger seat and does the seat belt up for her as I enter the back. It takes me a few tries, but I eventually get my seatbelt secured as I lean back in my seat. My feet are absolutely killing me, so I kick off my heels and put them on the seat next to me as Lissa babbles on about random shit.

"So then he said it was okay because it was an accident," She laughs whole heartedly before stopping abruptly and squinting out of the windshield. "Hey, where are we going?"

"We're taking you home Lissa," I say plainly. "You've had a little—a lot—to drink tonight so we should probably get you into bed. You're dad is out tonight at the country club, right?"

Lissa disregards my question. "What? No, I'm fine. No, really! Let's go parrrrrrrrrty!"

She's slurring so much that she _must_ be hammered out of her mind. Greeeeaaat. I sigh. "We'll go to a party another time. We just left a party. It's bedtime."

She pouts like a little girl. Boys tend to find this devastatingly attractive. It just kind of pisses me off. "Nick, Max is being a party pooper. Let's go to a party."

Nick, as much as I highly dislike him, gives me such a pitiful look that I _almost_ feel bad for him. Key word: almost. He shakes his head slightly. "Nope. Max is right; you need to get to bed. You're already going to have a hell of a hangover."

Lissa sits back in her seat and refuses to look at either of us. "Then get used to not getting laid."

Nick rolls his eyes as we pull up to Lissa's house. It's one of those places that you can just look at it and be able to say "rich people live here". Everything about their house is perfect; from the gleaming windows to the perfect flower boxes and gardens and lawn that are maintained constantly by a crack staff of landscapers and cleaners. The inside is renovated to be about as modern as you can, not a speck of dust in sight anywhere in the house. Lissa's dad is some sort of rich investor/businessman while her mom stays at home most of the time. But every time I've gone over, Lissa's mom has had a glass of wine in her hand. Unfailingly _every_ time.

But enough on that. Nick stops the car and I automatically get out to help Lissa to the front door. I purposely glare at Nick who hasn't moved an inch from his seat. "Get out and help, you _asshole._"

Lissa shakes her head. "Don't fight guys. Where is the love?"

Oh God, we need to get her inside. We walk Lissa up to the door, me in my bare feet (I left my heels in the car), and I ring the doorbell. Lissa's mom opens the door.

Where Lissa's mom lacks intelligence, she really makes up for it with her looks. She is really pretty, even at her age, and in great shape. But I have to give her credit; she was smart enough to realize that she couldn't take care of herself and married a rich guy while she was still young and hot. Now she spends her time shopping and doing interior design.

She looks Lissa over once. "Hmmm. What a mess you are at the moment sweetie."

"I'm fine," Lissa hiccups as she steps through the doorway, clutching at the door frame for balance.

Lissa's mom just rolls her eyes before addressing Nick and I. "Thanks for bringing her home you two. I'll put her right to bed."

Nick nods politely. "It's no problem Mrs. Reid."

She smiles widely at him. "Oh Nick, you're such a nice boy."

I have to bite the inside of my check to refrain from laughing loudly. Nick? A nice boy? Please.

"Bye Mrs. Reid," I fake a smile.

"Oh call me Karen," she insists, closing the door.

As soon as we're five yards from the house I elbow Nick in the ribs. "Well someone's a suck up."

His face portrays no emotion. "I know you are."

I scowl at him. "Well, I was talking about you playing all nice with Lissa's mom. What an act."

He pretends to be offended. "Act? I'm _such_ a nice guy."

I plop down in the passenger seat of his car. "Bullshit."

"Well I _am_ giving you a ride home. Or would you like to walk?" he smirks devilishly.

I scoff. "I bet Lissa would be thrilled if I told her that you dumped me on the side of the street to walk home. She wouldn't dump you, it would be worse. She would _lecture_ you about it."

I look him in the eyes, and we simultaneously ascertain that I've won this fight. A triumphant smirk inhabits my face as I lean back in the seat, pleased.

The feeling doesn't last long.

As soon as I get out of the car, a very important detail finally registers in my brain.

I don't have a key into my house.

It's only 12:00, my mom and Ella aren't going to be home for hours and I'm going to be stuck out here for ages. Fuck.

"Fuck," I vocalize.

Nick rolls down his window smugly. "Locked out? That's a shame."

He says it in that cocky voice and I know that I'm going to lose this one.

He fakes a thoughtful look. "I guess I would let you come chill at my place until you're family gets home and unlocks the door, but apparently I'm not nice, so I don't think I can do that."

I think over my options. I could sit here like a moron and wait for my mom to come home in what could be lifetimes (okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic) and possibly freeze my ass—which Jeff says is phenomenal—off. Or, I could go back to Nick's house and spend what could be hours of time with him. And don't you dare forget how much I don't like him.

Both options suck ass.

But at least the second option has heating and the comfort of being indoors.

So I turn back around and sit in Nick's car. Before he can make some sort of jab at me, I deadpan, "Shut up and drive."

And he doesn't say a word the entire time. But then again, Nick isn't really known for being articulate.

**Page Break**

"So how many times have you and Dylan done it?"

JJ's question is so random that I'm actually rendered speechless for a couple of seconds. We're just chilling the night before the big end-of-the-year party in her basement, watching old movies and eating popcorn.

Okay, so I'm eating most of the popcorn. And neither of us is paying attention to the movie. It's one of JJ's favourites: _10 Things I Hate About You _**(AN: okay, maybe that's one of my favourites)**, so we've probably watched it over 36 times before. I bet JJ could say all the lines in the entire movie, word for word, in sequence.

But JJ's really caught me off guard with her question and I find myself blushing. "None of your damn business," I act offended before I blush even deeper scarlet, "but twelve."

JJ smirks, letting out a low, impressed whistle. "Twleve? Wow Max, kinky."

I slap her arm, a little too hard to qualify as 'playfully'. "He's been my boyfriend since forever, it's fine. What wouldn't be fine is if _you_ were screwing my boyfriend twleve times."

"Ahh, yes. The ultimate girl crime. Hooking up with your best friend's boyfriend," JJ smiles. She pulls a blanket tighter around d her thin frame and pushes her hair out of her face. "Don't worry Max, I'd never do anything like that to you."

**Page Break**

Nick's place looks exactly the same as it always has all the times our little "group" has hung out here. I don't even get lost trying to navigate the halls anymore.

I'm kind of sickened by how familiar it feels to be here.

"Where are your parents? I know that Nudge is out with Ella, but...?" I trail off, leaning against the granite counters in the kitchen, playing with a salt shaker

"Conference in San Francisco. They get back tomorrow evening."

We fall silent as that sinks in. And then it's awkward because we're alone together in this house and it's kind of weird. I drum my fingers against the countertop and the sound echoes throughout the room. Nick just stands there. This goes on for about eight minutes.

It's funny, I think I'd rather be sitting in front of my house, locked out, like an idiot.

Nick walks away without warning. I'm about to cuss him out when he returns with a bottle of Bacardi. I shoot him a questioning look as he pulls two shot glasses from the nearest cupboard.

He shrugs. "You're slightly more tolerable when you're drunk."

I open my mouth to argue but then shut it again. Because it sort of is true. He pours the two shots and I don't even hesitate before downing it.

Because, frankly, Nick is more tolerable when I'm drunk and not quite so acutely aware of how much of a dick he is.

He pours me a second, and a third, and a fourth, and an eighth. I knock it back quickly, slamming the glass down on the counter. I turn to Nick, who is getting ready to pour our ninths (he's been keeping up with me) when I groan. "This is pointless."

I grab the bottle right out of his hand and take a huge gulp. It tastes like shit, but I love the buzz as I take another. Nick steals the bottle back, taking a swig of his own. After another, I take it back, drinking again. We just keep steal the bottle back and forth, like we're fighting. It's almost a game.

I point at Nick after I swallow. "You know, I never got what your problem was with me. I mean, you've always hated me but I don't know _why._ If you weren't such an asshole, you could be half-decent."

I take another swig before he snatches the bottle from my hands. Bitch.

"You and Dylan were freaks of nature. People aren't meant to be that perfect."

That hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. _People aren't meant to be that perfect_, oh how I do know that. I know it so well. So well that I think I might throw up.

But the feeling is gone just as fast as it came and I'm left with an empty feeling instead.

I try to ignore it. "You're just jealous of how awesome I am."

It's a little slurred as it leaves my mouth and suddenly Nick's laughing. Well, chuckling. Close enough.

"You wish I would be jealous of you," he smirks.

"Oh yeah?" Without realizing what I'm doing, I bring my arms up and push him. It's playful, but he pushes me right back against the counter, pinning me with his body. It's not fair; he's a solid four inches taller than my 5'8'', maybe even more. His arm goes to either side of my, resting against the counters a couple of inches wide of my figure.

I'm trapped.

"I'm thinking, yeah," he says arrogantly.

It's at this moment that we both seem to simultaneously recognize just how close we are. Only a few inches separate my face from his.

We both freeze up, but I can't make myself stop staring into his eyes and he's staring at mine and suddenly we're back to being awkward.

"So..." I trail off, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Time seems to slow down; the world seems to freeze as we're in this moment. Not in a good way; in a terrifying way.

And then, it's as if something suddenly changes in the atmosphere. I don't know what. It's like something in both of our brains suddenly snaps and he kisses me. It's soft and hesitant and slow at the beginning, but after about a second it becomes faster and more desperate and hungry as I dig my fingernails into his scalp. His hands grab my hips and pick me up, place me on the counter top without breaking the kiss.

And as much as I hate him, he's really got a talent with his mouth.

We kiss fiercely, and I allow myself to get lost in the feeling as he pulls me closer to him, as if it were even possible—our bodies are completely flush against each other—and I wrap my legs around his waist. He picks me up, breaking the kiss for a second as we stare at each other; neither of us really comprehending what is going on.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is wrong, and I shouldn't be doing this, not at all. But the thought is clouded with the sensation of making out and with alcohol but I try to clear my head. If I want to push him away, this is the time.

But his lips reconnect to mine, and the thought is gone, gone, gone.

He starts to walk and after a few moments I realize he's taking me down the stairs to the basement, where I know his bedroom is.

And somehow I manage to forget just how much of a horrible person I truly am.

But only for a moment.

**Please Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi.**

**So I'm not dead, I've just been away. Last week I was in Chicago for the Jesus Culture Awakening Conference (which by the way, was incredible) and then I spent some extra time in Chicago exploring and taking pictures of buildings and stuff.**

**Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I've been busy. I wish I could've updated earlier. But you guys have been amazing (so many nice reviews for last chapter I think I laughed hysterically for three minutes straight) so thank you so much.**

**Highlight of the Day: I just spent the past twenty minutes trying to login to FanFiction, but it wouldn't let me. Then I realized that I was using the wrong password :S I'm a genius :P**

I look at Dr. Wyatt and she looks at me. We've been stuck in this silence for over thirty minutes. She can't _force_ me to talk if I don't want to. And if she claims that she has all day, well I have all day too.

"You know, we could do this forever," she says in a levelled voice. Not showing any emotion at all. Well two can do that.

"I know," I answer back in the exact same way.

She stares me down. "We aren't making any progress by doing this. We're just wasting your time and my time."

I snort. "Well it's not like I have anywhere else to be. You should know that from your research."

I point at the little brown "Max" file folder in her lap.

"You really are stubborn," she states plainly. Nothing in her voice gives away that she's mad, or frustrated, or ready to give up.

Damn.

Dr. Wyatt crosses her arms. "You know, you're mom told me to call her if you were being uncooperative. I'm trying not to do that, because your mom really seems like she may cry at the mention of your name, but you aren't giving me a choice."

That's a low hit. My mom? That's the one soft spot I have left. My mom's been an emotional wreck for weeks, and I guess I'm not making things easy for her, but Dr. Wyatt bringing her into this is playing an unfair card.

A phone call to my mom would devastate her and then she'd do something stupid like call my dad and then there will be a freak out of epic proportions. Dr. Wyatt can't call my mom, she _can't_. Except I know she would.

But I guess all is fair in love, war, and therapy.

I can't help it, I cave.

"Fine, I kind of ruined my reputation by doing some skanky stuff."

**Page Break**

I wake up the next morning feeling warm. Cozy. It's been a while since I've felt that way, so I'm trying to soak it in before I have to open my eyes. I won't openly admit it, but I really do miss feeling warm and safe, a sensation that has been absent since _the incident_ happened and everything went awry. I want to just bask in this moment and remember it forever. I need something to hold onto in my mind.

But something feels wrong.

I open my eyes briskly. Light is filtering in from a small box window near to the ceiling, hitting the foot of the bed. The bed sheets are dark grey, and the comforter is black. Something about this is important, but I can't remember what. That's when I hear the breathing. And I suddenly notice the arm wrapped tightly around my waist. And then I notice the skin tone of that arm. And then I notice just how _naked_ I am.

_Oh shit._

I immediately get up and hastily out of the bed, grabbing the nearest shirt off the ground, which is obviously black, covering up as much of my body as possible, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Or more, last night. It doesn't help that I have a killer headache. I hate hangovers.

Nicks stirs at my sudden movement, looking up at me with sleep-clouded eyes. And when it finally registers in head, his eyes widen a fraction of a millimetre. But I guess that's his version of complete astonishment.

I feel like I've just been sucker punched.

"Yeah, we fucked up. We fucked up really badly because you're my best friend's boyfriend and I hate you and you are the literally number one most off-limits person and we just..._oh god._" I say it all in one breath, finally starting to freak out as it starts to settle in my head. _Oh god, I just fucked my best friend's boyfriend._

And I know I'm not a saint, but I've never done anything this bad before. Never mind, that's a lie. I've done worse things.

But I swore I'd never do bad things again. Not like this.

Nick's staring at me, and I'm staring at him. We don't say a word as a couple minutes pass in dead silence. For a second I think I'm dead and I've gone to hell, but that thought passes quickly. It's like I'm thinking a million things at once, but nothing at all. My head is pounding, and all I can think is that even though I'm not super close with Lissa, I still betrayed her. Majorly.

I break the silence.

"What have we _done_?"

**Page Break**

"Define 'skanky stuff'," Dr. Wyatt asks. She has an amused smile playing at her lips. She's trying really hard not to laugh, but she's pretty much failing.

I almost laugh with her. I really must be really far gone if I'm laughing about how I fucked up my life and ended up in a psychiatrist's office. "I think it's self-explanatory."

"Okay, but what exactly did you do that made everyone hate you?" she asks, her fingers tapping against her knee.

Since I don't really care, I answer honestly. "It's not even like I fucked around with that many guys. It was only two. Girls at my school went around doing way more guys than I did."

Dr. Wyatt sits back with a surprised look on her face. "So what exactly made them hate you the most?"

"It's simple: I just fucked around with the wrong guys," I say nonchalantly, fixing my gaze on the far wall of the room. There's a painting of a field of flowers hung up with an expensive looking frame. Well isn't that just _pleasant_. I turn back to her. "It really isn't that complicated, everyone just made it seem that way. It's not like I meant for everything to happen the way it did."

**Page Break**

I try to flatten out my mess of curls, but it's not working. I run my fingers through the worst tangles, but eventually give up, resorting to a half-assed ponytail. At least it looks sort of decent...ish. Then onto another beast entirely: my makeup. My mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow are smeared in a terrible mess surrounding my eyes. I wash my face three times before settling and excepting some of the remnants of makeup on my face will not come off any time soon. It looks presentable enough to be seen in public. I glance sideways into the mirror, where I can see Nick lying on his just-made bed. He'd found some sweatpants and a t-shirt on the floor and resorted to wearing that while I had to put on my dress from last night again.

I hate how suffocated I feel while wearing it.

I look at Nick, who is lying there, staring at the ceiling. He still has a bit of my bright red lipstick on his jaw line. I shudder, thinking about how it got there.

I can't stand to look at him, I close the bathroom door.

Nick, since his bedroom is alone in the basement, has his own bathroom. I can't help but be envious of him, because sharing a bathroom with Ella is super annoying. I didn't know it took people that long to wash their hair, but Ella seems to try to set new world records. Lucky me.

For a guy's washroom, everything is pretty neat in here. He has some deodorant on the counter along with the cologne Lissa bought for him a while back and a towel hung on a towel rack—not perfectly folded or anything, just neat enough. He isn't one of those guys who gels his hair a certain way each morning or anything, and as far as I can tell, shampoo is the only thing that gets in his hair. A razor is off to the side, and I guess that's why his face always looks smooth.

Lissa hates guys with beards.

Everything about here reminds me of Lissa, which makes everything I did last night with Nick so much worse. Because something in my mind should have reminded me that Nick was Lissa's, and I was supposed to act strictly "hands-off".

But even if Nick wasn't with Lissa, I mean, he's still on my list for people I never wanted to hook up with. I can't just forget about how he's a major asshole and how he's spent years just trying to make me feel inferior to him, especially when I was with Dylan. God, how could I just forget how much I hate him to do _that_? I think that's what I'm the most angry about. And as much as I want to peg this on him, I can't stop the sickening feeling rising in my stomach.

Guilt. I just keep screwing everything up. I think I'm finally above these sorts of things and then I mess up again.

And it's always extraordinary the way I fuck things up.

I check my appearance in the mirror one last time, but the slight glance is enough to repulse me. I can't even look at myself right now.

I open the door, looking directly at Nick. "Get up, let's go."

Nick raises a quizzical eyebrow at me. "'Let's'? I think you're on your own for this one."

That asshole.

"You have to give me a ride home," I state firmly. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you."

"What if I say no?"

He smirks at me. Girls fall over that smirk but all it does is infuriate me. I want to slap it right off of his fucking face.

But I keep a calm exterior and my voice remains patient. "Are you actually denying me of a ride home? Because how do you think Lissa would feel if I told her that you took advantage of me last night?"

My eyes narrow at him, and although my tone is light, he hears the depth behind it. He scowls at me. "Took advantage of you? Please. I didn't do anything of the sort."

I resume my light, friendly facade. "Oh really?"

"You know it's true," his eyes narrow in on me, "Besides, isn't it girl crime to go after the best friend's boyfriend?"

"Yeah, girls don't go after friend's boyfriends," I say vaguely, "But think about it; my side sounds better than yours. I mean, it's the stereotype. You're the guy who's on the football team, and I'm just your girlfriend's friend that you brought home. And I'm smaller than you, and the house was empty and it just seems pretty fucking sketchy, don't you think?"

I shoot him and innocent smile, and he rolls his eyes. "Everyone knows you're a tank. Didn't you do kickboxing for years? Nobody would buy your story."

"Think about it," I go on anyways, "What was the first thing you did when we got here? You got me drunk. That's suspicious as fuck. So just get up and fucking drive me home, or else I'll conjure up some fucking fake tears and tell Lissa that you used me. And let me warn you; when the girl cries, she wins."

I've lost the smile, and I'm dead serious. I'm glaring at Nick, and he's glaring at me because we hate each other and that's just what we do. He just has to drive me home; I'm not asking him to die for me or anything. He's just being a total dick right now. I don't want to have to deal with this. My head hurts and I have an awful hangover and all I want is to go home.

He caves in. "Fine. Whatever. I'll drive you."

The entire ride passes in complete, eerie silence. We don't so much as look at each other. He weaves his way through the Sunday morning traffic as he makes his way towards my house. He pulls up onto the driveway and stops the car, finally looking at me.

"I won't tell if you don't."

The words catch me off guard, I've become so accustom to the silence. I take a moment to process the words before nodding. "Not a soul. Don't you dare even tell Jeff."

He smirks. "Oh Max, a gentleman never kisses and tells."

"You're not a gentleman. That's why I'm worried."

I open the car and get out, slamming the door behind me. I make my way up the pathway and climb the steps to my front door. I hope it doesn't look like a walk of shame. I ring the doorbell once.

I'm greeted with my mom's face as the door swings open. She looks tired, but she'd gone through a lot of work with Ella's sweet sixteen, so I can't blame her. Her eyes widen when she sees me. "Where have you been?"

Her tone isn't angry, just a bit worried. I shrug. "I slept over at Lissa's house. She wasn't feeling so good so we left the party early, but I didn't have my keys to the house. She told me I could just stay at her place for the night. I would've called, but my phone battery died."

Mom's face relaxes as I explain things to her. Of course, it's all a massive lie, except she doesn't know that. But then her brow furrows again. "That wasn't Lissa's car that dropped you off."

Think fast, think fast... "Yeah, that was Nick's car. You know, Lissa's boyfriend. He was picking her up this morning and so he said he's drop me home."

I hope that I'm not blushing.

If my mom detects that anything is wrong, she doesn't show it. Instead, she just sighs. "Okay Max. Just use the landline to call me next time, okay?"

I smile. I genuinely love my mom. She's always on my side. "I will."

I walk up the stairs slowly, counting the steps as I climb. In total, there are sixteen. I saunter over to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I know I should shower, but I just don't feel like it. Instead I change into a comfortable, old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I fold the dress on my bed before heading back downstairs and grabbing the keys to my mom's old Toyota. It's about a million years old (okay, maybe it's only fifteen) but she kept it for me to drive around when she got a newer car earlier on this year. As dumb as it sounds, I kind of like it better than any new car. It just reminds me of home and warmth.

Not a lot of things remind me of that anymore.

"Mom, I'm taking the car!" I call out while slipping on an old pair of converse. The colour has faded from bright blue to more of a dusty, light blue. These used to be my favourite shoes when I was fourteen.

My mom rounds the corner with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Where are you going? You _just_ got home."

I lie through my teeth. "I have a project to work on with Megan Georgini for English class. I just remembered we were going to meet up to work on it this morning. I'm actually late right now, but I promise I won't be home too late. Maybe in a couple of hours?"

My mom sighs, exasperated. "Go on."

I exit the doorway and jump into the car, jamming the key into the ignition. I back the car out of the driveway and head down random streets, driving at a leisurely pace. It's Sunday morning, so it's not like there's going to be that much traffic. Besides, I've got hours to kill.

The sky is an awful gray colour; not quite like rain clouds, just gray. The sun pokes through the clouds every once in a while, but not consistently enough to be considered partially sunny. Nothing looks good today, it's like Mother Nature is trying purposely trying to make everyone in this city feel depressed. What a bitch.

I wind the car through street after street until I'm driving along a deserted road. The road itself is old as hell, unfixed potholes that have been there ever since I can remember. Trees line either side of the road, tall trees that have been there for multiple decades. I try to tell myself I don't know where I'm driving, but that's a lie. I know exactly where I'm going as I make my way along the old, bumpy road.

Out here is just farmland; like orchards and stuff. I think Ella and I came orange picking out here when we were younger. Jeb had taken us. It had been a good day, the sky was cloudless and the sun lit up the world. It was one of those days that makes you want to capture the moment forever.

So basically, the opposite of today. I stop the car in front of an old farmhouse. There's a barn out back, but it's used to store cars rather than livestock. It's a pretty big property, the backyard extending out to meet a forest. The family that lives here is gone for now; it's an old, retired, rich couple that wanted a house to go to for vacations, to relax. They're not coming back for another couple of months.

I put the car in park and turn it off. I step out.

Just being here, I can feel the heavy bass line, music playing so loudly the vibration goes through your feet. Distant sounds of laughing and dancing fill the air. I can almost see the millions of cars lined up along the shoulder of the road. I close my eyes, and it's if I can smell the strong scent of alcohol; cheap beer and what not. Maybe I smell a little sweat and cologne in there too.

It's a party. Everyone is having a good time, school is out and this summer is going to be the best yet. That's what everyone thought.

I walk over to the empty house, climb the steps, I sit on the swinging bench on the porch. This is where JJ used to live. This is where countless sleepovers and play dates and tea parties took place.

Jennifer Joy's family moved away in July. They'd sold the place as soon as possible and drove away with their moving van, Wisconsin bound. They said it was because Mr. Joy got a promotion and needed to relocate to a new office. That was hardly the reason.

They just didn't want to admit the real one. No one else wanted to either.

I get off the swing and walk off the porch. This place is like a haunted house; everything about here reminds me of Jen. I can almost hear her laugh whipping through with the wind.

I miss her so much I don't know how to describe it. I hate that one person can just be here and then gone somewhere far, far away. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.

I make my way around the house and into the forest. The sounds of the party are getting louder. Music is filling the air and everyone is dancing, having the time of their lives. Girls in short skirts are running over to their boyfriends while others are just drinking in little groups. Everyone is wasted. Nobody is looking out for anybody but themselves.

I keep walking. I move forward to the forest, but stop right before I enter. JJ and I used to play hide and seek and manhunt with her brothers in dark, using the trees as protection to hide.

No one plays in this forest anymore.

I take a deep breath before walking in. I feel dizzy for a second, so I close my eyes and snap my fingers until the sensation disappears. And I trudge on, following the slight path to a small clearing. I fall to my knees, searching the ground for anything that could be left here. I don't care what I find, I just need something. I dig around frantically for an eternity, but as usual, I come up empty handed.

_Of course nothing's left here,_ I scold myself, _there's never anything. It's not going to change on the sixteenth visit._

But for some reason, I just keep searching. I can't stop myself. I can still hear the music, but it's softer here, farther from the safety of the party. This forest isn't where anyone wants to be, the trees loom over me menacingly. They seem to know what I did. I can't lie to them as easily as I do to everyone else.

I turn to the left and throw up.

**Page Break**

"So you did some regrettable stuff. We all make mistakes Max," Dr. Wyatt says in a flat tone.

I'm staring into space, looking for something that isn't there. "I didn't. I never made mistakes before."

**Page Break**

"Did you have any plans tonight?"

I look up from the TV and face my mom. She's got her veterinarian clinic ID card around her neck and her work bag slung over her shoulder. Probably some call about a dying dog.

I shrug. "Nothing yet. Why?"

My mom shifts the bag from her left shoulder to her right. "Catherine called. She was wondering if you could babysit the kids tonight. If you can't do it, I'll ask Ella."

The kids. I haven't seen them in months, and somehow, I actually miss their faces. "Yeah, I'll do it. It would be good for me to play with them for a bit."

My mom smiles at me. A genuinely warm smile, not the fake, worried ones she's been shooting me more recently. "Head over in about half an hour, okay?"

I nod, and go back to watching some random sit com.

When the time comes to leave, I grab the keys and stuff my feet in my shoes. I'm about to go when the doorbell rings. I open up to find a grinning Jeff.

I send him a questioning look. "What are you doing here?"

He shoots a quizzical look right back at me. "We were supposed to study together tonight," he says, showing me his physics binder.

I mentally face palm. I vaguely remember making plans to "study" with Jeff. "Shit sorry, I can't. I'm babysitting tonight. I mean, you can come with me and wait for them to fall asleep, but that's pretty weird. Not to mention sketchy."

He shrugs, not getting the hidden message that I don't really want him there. "Sure, why not. I love kids."

"That's because you are one in your mind," I roll my eyes at Jeff's excited expression. I internally groan.

He frowns at me. "Sure, whatever. I wasn't a child when you gave me a blow—"

"Shut up," I cut him off, my cheeks flushing red. I check behind my shoulders to make sure someone, like Ella, isn't eavesdropping on our conversation. Because I think I'd die if she was.

I convince Jeff to let me drive his car, something I've been dying to do since he started giving me rides to places, as I make my way towards the Richardson's house. I haven't been here in a while, but I used to drive there so much that the route is probably permanently engraved into my brain. Getting there is just instinct.

Jeff (surprisingly) stays quiet the entire way. He looks out the windshield expressionlessly for what seems like forever. Huh. Maybe Nick is rubbing off on him.

I pull up in the driveway, not even waiting for Jeff as I make my way up the walkway and ring the doorbell. It doesn't take very long for two small, blonde heads to appear in the window beside the door, excited grins on their little faces. The door swings open immediately.

"Max!"

Angel doesn't hesitate to run and hug my legs tightly. Her name completely suits her appearance; a sweet face like a cherub and a halo of golden curls. She's possibly the most adorable thing ever to live, and she's just like my baby. I guess she's six now, and she's grown a lot since I last saw her.

"Look Max, I have a wiggly tooth!" she exclaims proudly, showing off what is indeed, a wiggly tooth.

I can't help it, I grin right back at her. "I'm sure it's going to fall out soon."

"Hi Max."

Gazzy is a little more reserved in his greeting. I mean, now that he's eight, he's not as hug-pro, but he still beams at me. He looks a lot like his sister; same hair, same smile, same adorable looks. Only, his hair is spiked up in certain places.

Gazzy's real name isn't Gazzy. It's actually Ryan, but he likes to mess with people's head and switch up his name when meeting strangers every once in a while. I mean, as far as I know he's also gone by Zephyr, Captain Terror (which he couldn't even spell right), and the Sharkalator. But his latest name is the Gasman which is derived from his rather... special digestive system.

Both of the kids eyes lock on something behind me as Angel squeals. "Iggy!"

Suddenly I'm forgotten as the run out and tackle Jeff. I just stare in confusion as Angel wraps her small arms around his legs and Gazzy is nearly exploding with excitement as he starts to ramble, "Guess what Iggy! I just created some detonator the other day that work from up to fifty yards away! They're _so_ effective!"

"Iggy?" I ask, completely bewildered. I meet Jeff's eyes and he smiles.

"Oh Max," he laughs, "Angel and Gazzy are my cousins."

I take a moment to process that. "Why 'Iggy"?"

Angel giggles cutely. "Because when I was little mom called him a 'piggy' but I couldn't pronounce 'p' so it came out as 'Iggy'."

"And then it just stuck," Gazzy finished. "Iggy's our favourite big cousin."

Jeff just sent me a winning smile. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

**Page Break**

"Can we get some food up in here? I'm starving," I say randomly.

Dr. Wyatt doesn't look surprised. "Sure. Um, what would you like?"

I pause for a moment and think about it. "Just a ham and cheese sandwich. And a chocolate chip cookie. The cookie is the important part."

She laughs. "Whatever makes you happy, Max."

I manage to send a real smile in her direction as she picks up the phone to call food service.

**Page Break**

"So like, the bomb is a lot more effective when we use the long distance detonator..." Jeff was rambling on about explosives to Gazzy, both of them grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Angel and I were playing with her barbies in her dollhouse, brushing out their hair and dressing them in pretty dresses. I want to gag. She smiles at me. "Thanks for playing with me Max. Gazzy refuses to play barbies with me now. He says they're too girly."

"He's just being dumb," I assure her, working out a particularly difficult knot in the barbie's hair, "But he can't help it; he's a boy. It's not our faults girls are much more evolved than them."

"Hey!" Both boys yell out.

Angel smiles at them smugly. "Well it's the truth."

I laugh and give her a high five. "You're beyond cool Angel."

She blushes cutely as she reaches towards another doll, passing it to me. "This is my favourite doll. She looks a lot like you, Max."

I take a good look at the doll. Strangely, it _does_ kind of look like me. It has the same sun-streaked hair, brown eyes and a lightly tanned skin tone. The similarities end about there though.

"She's pretty isn't she?" Angel says, looking at me with big blue eyes. "She's perfect, just like you, Max."

The air gets caught in my throat so suddenly that I feel like I'm going to choke to death. My left hand grips the Barbie tighter and tighter as I pinch my left arm with my right arm until the feeling subsides.

I breathe in as calmly as I can as I check to make sure no one has noticed my I-don't-even-know-what-to-call-it, but everyone is acting normally. I sigh in relief.

But I don't think I can play Barbies anymore. Not after that.

So I sneakily change the subject. "Are you guys hungry?"

Angel and Gazzy nod their heads rapidly. "Can we have Kraft Dinner?"

That involves using the stove, which isn't exactly the safest idea for someone as culinary impaired as me, but I smile back at them anyways and head to the kitchen.

As it turns out, they don't have any Kraft Dinner in the pantry.

"I'm sorry guys, but there aren't any boxes of Kraft Dinner left. What else do you want to eat?"

I try not to look directly at their disappointed little faces. I instantly feel like shit.

Angel pouts and gives me puppy-dog eyes. It's terribly cute. "But Max..."

Jeff decides that this is the right time to join the conversation. "You know Angel, I could just whip up some homemade macaroni and cheese. Do you guys want to help me?"

I look at him like he's out his mind. Him? Cook? _Please_.

But he pulls out all the necessary ingredients and sets Gazzy up to grate cheese while he gets the water going and Angel monitors the apparatus.

I'm still confused. "Why on earth do you have _flour_ out?"

The look Jeff sends me is so condescending that I want to hit him. "The flour is what makes the cheese stick to the pasta."

He acts like this is an obvious fact.

What's worse is that after I somehow screw up stirring the pasta and spill hot water all over the stove causing it to make an awful sizzling noise, they all turn against me. Even Angel is glaring.

Jeff smirks. "Maybe it would better if you stepped out of the kitchen. At least until we're done."

I want to slap him but instead I just take my dismissal like a champ and walk away. That's me, suave. If I was a total fembot, I would be going apeshit about being upstaged by a guy in my cooking skills, but everyone knows I'm not that type of girl.

The worst part is that when we sit down to eat, it actually tastes really good.

**Page Break**

I bite into the sandwich mercilessly. I'd given up on having good table manners a month ago. I don't care as crumbs rain down on my lap.

"Is it good?" Dr. Wyatt is chowing down on a sandwich of her own—peanut butter and jam I think—letting the crumbs fall onto her clothes too.

I nod. "It's fine."

I take a huge bite of my chocolate chip cookie. Clear vanilla notes; soft but not too soft; semi-sweet chocolate chips. Overall, not a bad cookie.

But still, it can't even compare to my mom's homemade cookies when their fresh from the oven. I haven't had those in a long, _long_ time.

**Page Break**

"You never struck me as a kid-person," I mutter to Jeff.

It's about 11:31 and the kids are fast asleep in their rooms. Jeff and I are lounging on the couch waiting for Catherine to come home. I have my feet kicked up on the coffee table.

"Well, they are family. And someone needs to teach Gazzy how to create awesome explosives," he smiles jokingly.

I smile with him. "I know. It's just that I always saw you as the popular guy who too absorbed with himself to care about anyone, much less children. Well, before I really started talking to you."

He touches his lips to my cheek. It's soft and hesitant and careful, sort of sweet. And for a moment I allow myself to enjoy the way if feels, to let myself feel comfortable in his arms; protected, safe. That warm feeling that's hard to come by nowadays, at least for me. One of his hands grips mine and it's surprisingly soft without being too soft (maybe he moisturizes?) and I know I shouldn't be allowing myself to enjoy this because I don't deserve to but I let myself anyways because I'm just a bad person like that. I promise myself that I'll make up for it later.

So for this short moment I let myself act as though this is okay and it's alright to share this moment with Jeff.

He turns and looks me directly in the eyes. "You know that can't be true then. I'm not completely self-absorbed."

I'm caught by the intensity in his bright, blue eyes that I can't even think of a smart-aleck response. "I know now."

"Because," he continues, "I really do care about people. I care about _you._"

_Oh no_.

**Reviews please?**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm not happy with this chapter. I had major writer's block and it's really bad, and I couldn't figure out how to end it, and I made everything short and my writing is lame, and it's just all around awful. I'm sorry.**

**Pretend you like it?**

**Highlight of the Day: Double rainbow.**

"You won't believe what happened yesterday, Max."

I'm pretty sure I will believe it.

Lissa and I were walking through the science hall on the way outside for lunch. I feign interest in whatever dumb thing Lissa is preparing to tell me. I'm just _that_ nice. "What happened?"

Lissa might explode from excitement. "Georgia and Jessica got in a huge fight yesterday. Something about backstabbing and then it just escalated. They were, like, throwing shit at each other and everything. Word is that Georgia has a concussion after Jess threw a textbook at her. If you weren't sick yesterday, you would've seen it all. It was hilarious!"

Yesterday I was "sick" so my mom let me stay home. It was more that I was trying to avoid my Biology test...and maybe I was trying to avoid other things, too. Okay, it was mostly the other things I was trying to avoid. But sue me.

When we finally get to the reading circle where we always eat, we find Nick and Jeff already there, shoving food down their throats like there's no tomorrow. Typical male specimens. Something about that Y chromosome makes a massive difference.

My eyes meet Nick's for half a second. It's awful. I turn away as fast as possible.

I should've faked sick again to avoid all the impending awkward moments I'm going to have with Nick. Scratch that, I should fake sick for the rest of my life.

Jeff swallows a bite of his sandwich. He smiles at me widely while Nick remains stoic as his gaze reaches me and Lissa looks as dumb as she usually does.

I think I'm grimacing, but I'm not exactly sure.

If anyone notices, they don't say anything.

So we all sit down and eat together and talk about things that don't matter. We laugh at the same dumb jokes and high five when props are due. We tease each other and take sides on pointless debates and make plans for a hangout on Thursday. And we all act like everything is normal between all of us.

Well, everyone but Lissa. She thinks everything _is _normal. But she's too ignorant to figure it out anyways.

I try to finish eating as fast as possible because I don't know how much longer I can stand Nick's eyes staring solely at me. It feels like my skin is crawling all over and I feel like I need to get away from where he can see me so I'm not constantly reminded of what we've done and it makes me feel sick. Like _actually sick_. I should've stayed home today.

I stand up abruptly and start to walk away. Everyone's eyes are suddenly on me—is that _concern_ I see in their eyes—but I guess this isn't exactly my most subtle exit ever.

"Where are you going, Max?" Lissa asks hesitantly. Like she's scared for me or something.

"Um…" I'm trying my best not to look like a deer caught in headlights, but I'm kind of failing at it. I keep going anyway. "I have an assignment that I have to hand in for Functions class?"

It comes out more as a question than a statement. I'm obviously lying.

They remain oblivious. Nick nods. "Oh yeah, I have to hand in the thing on Vectors, too."

_Please just be messing with me. _

I think he's about to call me out on my bullshit lie when he starts to pack his stuff away and stands up. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and meets my eyes. "Ready?"

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

It's like all the air gets knocked out of my lungs. I swallow hard. "Yeah, sure."

The sound is wheezy as it leaves my throat. I don't know how to handle this. I _can't_ handle this. I glare at him, and try to send my best "go away" vibes, but Nick seems to be immune to them. Of course he has to pick the worst time to be ignorant. I dig my fingers into the palms of my hands, but I'm not waking up and this isn't a dream. I reluctantly go along with Nick. _What does he think he's doing?_

We make our way towards the school doors and I'm trying my best not to look at Nick. As soon as we're out of sight from Lissa and Jeff I pick up my pace and try to walk away from him. We both know that there's no Vectors assignment so why the fuck is he still following me?

I confront him about this. "Why the fuck are you still following me?"

We're pretty much alone; we're on the west side of the school: the teacher parking lot. It's pretty much abandoned; no one really comes this way except the teachers at the beginning and end of school. If I want to scream at Nick, this is the perfect place.

Nick isn't even fazed. "We need to talk."

"You say that like we're breaking up or something," I retort.

He glares at me. I glare back. He grabs my arm and pulls me away to the side so we're right next to the school wall. It's a really secluded space, like, no one can see us even if they wanted to.

I wonder why kids don't use this as their make out spot.

I cross my arms over my chest and try to act like I'm not having trouble holding down my lunch. In truth, my stomach is lurching. "What?"

I intend to glare at him, but the second my eyes settle on him I feel guilty all over again and I turn away.

He notices, obviously. "What's wrong with you? You can't even _look_ at me."

As if to prove his point, I don't look at him. "I feel gross."

It's the only way I can describe it. I feel dirty and gross whenever I'm around him because what we did is wrong I know that.

"You feel _gross_?" he raises an eyebrow and confusion tinges his voice.

I nod. "Okay? That's it? Now fuck off."

I turn to walk away from him because the air is starting to get too thick to breathe and I need to get away to where there's fresh air.

I think I'm free when Nick suddenly grabs my shoulder. "Wait, Max."

I don't even think before I push him—like, really push him—and he releases me. But since this is Nick, and not a gentleman, he's quick to push me back. My shoulder blades slam into the wall as he closes down on me.

His face is too close to my face. "Could you possibly just shut the fuck up and listen to me for a minute?"

I turn away from him. "What do you want?"

"You've been avoiding me. I know we fucked up and everything but that doesn't mean you should just shut me out like this. You purposely find ways to steer clear of me. You weren't even like this when you hated me."

A surge of anger rises in my chest. "Hated? Past tense? I think you're forgetting that I still hate you."

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, Max. Really?"

"Why am I even talking to you? Is there really a point to this conversation?"

He doesn't say what I'm expecting. "I was just wondering if you were okay. Lissa said you were sick yesterday and you were looking a little weird earlier."

Are you kidding me?

I push him away and laugh sardonically. "Wow, you are just so full of shit, aren't you? Worried about me feeling sick? As if. Fuck you."

I begin to storm away towards the nearest school entrance. The _nerve_ of him.

"You already have," he calls out.

I turn around so quickly I feel dizzy. He's smirking at me. Like, full on smirking at me.

"I hate you. I hope you understand that."

And I turn back around and continue to walk towards the school. I don't look back to see if he's following me. No, instead I just keep making my way into the school. I pass my locker and instead find the most secluded washroom I can.

And once I'm certain I'm alone I ball up the front of my shirt in my mouth and scream.

**Page Break**

"I suck at relationships."

It's pitch black in JJ's basement. The movie had finished over an hour ago, and now we're just sitting in the cool, dark of the basement wrapped up in blankets.

I shift in my seat. "_Why_ exactly do you suck at relationships?"

JJ sighs slowly. "I mean, like, I'm having trouble sorting things out right now."

My brow furrows in concentration. "Is something wrong with Tyler?"

"No, not exactly," She laughs nervously. Even though I can't see her, I know she's biting her lip the way she always does when she's thinking. "It's just, I don't know if I really want to be with him."

I'm taken aback. JJ always seems over the moon when she's with Tyler. Tyler is on the football team; he's built and brunette and has green eyes that look like emeralds. He's not the smoothest guy out there, but as JJ has told me a million times, that's why she likes him. She thinks that guys who are too confident and smooth when they're talking are more likely to be liars.

_He's a little awkward and has difficultly sometimes when he's speaking_, she told me. _I don't think he'd be able to lie without choking over his words._

She thinks he's the sweetest guy ever and he's practically head over heels for her so I don't know what problem could've possibly come up.

Maybe they became cliché and couldn't decide who loved the other more.

I snap myself back to reality. "Did he do something to upset you or…?"

"No, it's not that. He's been perfect to me and I just feel…I just feel like I'm not over Cody."

Cody Randells is JJ's ex. I think he's a douche. "JJ, are you sure?

I can hear her fidgeting. "I mean, I thought he was a worthless piece of shit but then he came over to my house—"

"Why the hell was he at your house?"

"—and we got around to talking a bit and he was saying that he misses me and he hates seeing me with Tyler and he told me he's so sorry and he knows how badly he fucked up. And he _cried_. So I was like, _why are you at my house_, and he said he was just in the neighbourhood—"

I laugh darkly. "JJ, do you even realize how dumb that sounds? Your house is in the middle of nowhere! No one is ever 'just in the neighbourhood'."

JJ is probably glaring at me through the darkness. "I know that, which is why I started thinking that he'd come out there purposely to see me. It's just complicated between us because we didn't have any closure after the break up, and I kind of just got with Tyler as a distraction from Cody because Tyler had always just been _there_, you know? I needed someone safe and Tyler is the definition of safe."

"But Jen, Cody was a jerk to you sometimes. Please tell you haven't forgotten all the crying and the screaming."

I hear Jen shift in her seat. "I know, but some of it isn't even about Cody. Some of it is Tyler. I mean, he's just too…something. Perfect? I don't feel anything with him. He makes me smile and he's nice to me, but there's no real connection. I don't know if I really want to be with him, or if I'm just afraid of being alone."

This conversation is pointless; we could go in circles over it and she wouldn't be able to make up her mind.

I wrap my arms around her. "Just take some time to think it over. You're emotionally stressed right now; wait until your head has cleared up to make any big decisions. I like Tyler, he's a nice guy. And he really loves you; I hope you know that."

"Thanks Max," she manages to hug me back, "You're the best."

**Page Break**

"Hello, Mrs. Griffiths."

She smiles back at me. "Hi Max. How are you?"

I return a grin. "Pretty good. You?"

"Splendid. Mr. Griffiths is taking me out on a date tonight," she giggles like a school girl. "He bought me a necklace!"

She pushes her hair back from her neck so I can see the string of pearls. I love Jeff's mom; she's just such a happy person all the time. Even though she's stinking rich, she's not snobby or anything. She's super duper nice. She's almost the same height as me and has strawberry blonde hair and always smells good. Always.

"Pretty. You look stunning. The Mister won't know what hit him," I wink at her.

We both laugh, but I can still see the blush creeping up on her cheeks. She's too cute.

Cue Jeff's entrance. "Hey mom, what's the occasion?"

"Your father is taking me out tonight," she tries to act nonchalant but her smile presses through. "We may not be home until very late."

I laugh when I see Jeff fake gag. His face contorts in disgust. "Gross Mom, don't tell me stuff like that. I'll never be able to take you guys seriously if you talk about…_that_ in front of me."

Mrs. Griffiths rolls her eyes. "How exactly do you think you came into existence?"

At this point Jeff has his hands over his ears, saying "La la la la la la la, I can't hear you!"

Very mature. Mr. Griffiths enters the room at this very moment.

"Do I want to know?" he asks. Mr. Griffiths looks like her could've been really hot in his youth. He's got a good build, a nice face structure and drop-dead-gorgeous blue eyes.

That's where Jeff gets them from.

"You really _don't_," I tell him as I try to contain my laughter.

Mr. Griffiths smiles at me. "Well I've got dinner reservations with a hot girl tonight, so promise you take care of our son? Make sure he's still in one piece and tucked into bed when we get back?"

"Hey!" Jeff says indigently.

I make sure my face is 100% serious. "I promise to take care of your darling Jeffrey. He'll be fed and in bed by 9:30."

They wave goodbye and head out to the car. Jeff and I retire to the couch.

And that's where we stay for the next half hour. My legs are resting over his and I'm pushed up against his side as we watch _Friends_ reruns. I rest my head on his shoulder.

His hand reaches up and to play with my hair. He twists a strand between two fingers. "Want to go somewhere else?" he whispers in my right ear.

_Not really_, I think. "Sure. What do you want to do this time?"

He chuckles lowly. "Not like that. I was thinking that we just got out of the house. Go somewhere."

I raise an eyebrow. This is new. "Like where?"

"I don't know, we are teenagers; where do teenagers go?" He stands up like he's delivering a life-altering speech. It's comical. "We are young, this is our time. We have to go out in the world and be rad before we get old! Where must the teenagers go?"

I'm almost pissing myself laughing, his facial expression is ridiculous. "I don't know, the mall?"

He turns to me. "Then to the mall we will venture!"

And I'm hysterically laughing.

It isn't until we get there that I realize why I generally dislike the mall.

The mall is always crowded and there are always people I know there. Everything is commercialized, and there's this sound, this collective_ breathing_ everywhere. All the air is stale, and it's hard to breathe.

I start to snap my fingers.

The mall music is playing loud enough for no one to hear me snapping—I suck at snapping my fingers anyway—but I need the rhythm.

Once I start, I can't stop. A couple people give me funny looks, I want to tell them I can't help it, but I stay quiet.

Jeff remains ignorant to it. "Want to catch a movie?"

I don't trust my voice right now so I just send him a tight-lipped smile.

He takes this as a yes.

He buys us tickets for a 7:15 showing of a movie. He insists that he pays for me, despite my protests about how sexist it is for him to do so. We end up watching an epic-war-espionage thing. I spend the entire two hours analyzing battle strategies and looking at the different types of weapons used (I learned from playing Call of Duty) and shoving handfuls of popcorn down my throat. The theatre is nearly empty since some new romantic comedy had been released last weekend.

I like the personal space. Jeff and I don't touch each other—I'd made him buy me my own bag of popcorn for the sole purpose of not having to share. Therefore, no awkward hand touching. We keep to ourselves, and that's the way I like it.

After the movie is done, we head to the food court. We get a little lost trying to find it (Lissa normally navigates the mall like pro so I don't even need to look at where I'm going—she'll do it for me), but we get there eventually. I get a shake, a burger, and fries. Jeff insists on paying for me.

I hate how nice he is to me. Mostly because I don't deserve it.

We find a table in the food court easily; it's Wednesday. If there's one day a week that the mall is going to be less crowded, it's Wednesday. I want to chow down like there's no tomorrow but my stomach doesn't agree with my brain, the way it's twisting in painful knots.

I end up eating slowly.

Jeff is looking at me from across the table as his foot nudges mine from under the table. "You okay?"

I nod weakly. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Maybe we should get you home then."

The car stops in my driveway. We just sit there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence. I'm not ready to go into my house, where Ella is waiting for me to come home and she'll be mad because I was gone with Jeff for so long and she wants him so badly she can't even explain it. I don't want to have to deal with her questions and her glares.

So I just stay in the car. I make no move to get out.

Jeff runs a hand through his light hair. "This was fun. Well, at least for me."

The words hit me hard. I swallow down hard. "No, it was fun."

I force a smile at him. Jeff is a sweet guy when you get passed his perverseness.

I see the kiss coming before it happens. It starts with him fumbling with the radio channel changing knob before turning it off. Jeff looks at me before leaning over the console and putting his hand at the back of my neck and drawing me in to him. Then come his lips.

The kiss is soft and sweet. He doesn't push it too hard, and he takes his time. Then he ends it.

I don't know what to say, so I start to get out of the car. I feel sick to my stomach. "Uh, Goodnight."

He smiles at me, his eyes shining. "Goodnight, Max."

When I get into the house I don't hesitate to run up the stairs. I dodge Ella as she tries to confront me in the hallway and rush to the washroom. I lock the door behind me and flip the toilet lid up. I put my hair in a ponytail before I feel it coming.

Then I throw up.

I sit on the floor against the wall after I'm done. And then I begin to realize what exactly Jeff and I did tonight.

We went to the movies then got dinner together. He paid for everything. And then he drove me home. And then he kissed me goodnight.

Holy shit.

We went on a fucking date. Somehow we ended up on a fucking date. I can't believe I didn't see it before. I feel sick all over again because I don't deserve this and there's a reason why I broke up with Dylan because I can't be with anyone anymore. Not in that way. I think I felt less guilty when I was exchanging homework for sexual favours.

I throw up again.

I think about the kiss; sure it was nice and everything, but it's not like I really felt it. Not in a good way. Not in the way that gave me butterflies and made sparks fly. It made me think of what I've done wrong and how I'm supposed to be paying for it, not being loved. It made me sick.

And as I make my way back to my bedroom afterwards, it occurs to me: I couldn't do this even if I wanted to.

**Page Break**

"Like, how old are you?" I just blurt out at Dr. Wyatt.

She looks like I just stuck her fingers in a light socket. You know, shocked. "What?"

I shrug. "You get to ask me annoying personal questions; I thought I would return the favour."

I smile cheekily at her.

She takes it well and giggles. "Okay, I guess. I'm 32."

I put on my best 'pensive' face. "And how exactly do you feel today? I mean _really_ feel?"

She's still laughing. "I'm okay."

"Has anything important happened to you or anything in your life stood out recently?" My face is deadly serious.

Dr. Wyatt is cracking up like a beast. "Well, I did lose my favourite pair of heels."

"And how _exactly _did that make you feel?"

My voice cracks on the last word and I'm suddenly laughing with her.

It's strangely fun. I can't remember the last time I laughed. I can't believe I'm laughing with my shrink, of all people.

**Page Break**

The doorbell rings.

I half-expect it to be Lissa.

It's most definitely _not_ Lissa.

It's Dylan. He attempts a small smile, but all I want to know is why the _fuck_ is he here?

"Um, hi?"

It comes out as a question as it leaves my lips. I really don't know what to say or how to act, but the air gets heavy quickly. I start tapping my foot quietly.

Dylan coughs nervously. "Hi Max. I just wanted to come apologize. Just for what happened between us at school a week or so ago. I really shouldn't have..."

The memory comes back to me in full Technicolor. It isn't pleasant. I remember the way my head went dizzy and I couldn't breathe and how he trapped me. "You're right. You shouldn't have."

"I know," Dylan runs a hand through his golden hair. "It's just hard for me to get over you and I was upset and not thinking."

I roll my eyes. "You'll get over me. Just find a new girlfriend and you'll be over me the second she hooks up with you. I'm sure there are lots of takers."

He smiles at me. It's cute actually. It's blatantly obvious that he's anxious about this conversation, the way he's thinking out the best words to say. I know he's thinking hard when he bites his lip. He doesn't do it often. "Not many girls would say that to their ex-boyfriends."

"I'm not many girls," I retort quickly, not in the mood to stand here talking to him.

He laughs, almost satirically. "I know; that's the problem. None of the other girls are you, and they don't cut it."

"A lot of girls aren't me. You might as well get used to it," I reply quickly. I really don't want to be having this conversation. I can't let him talk about me like I'm something wonderful because that's a lie and I'm not worth it.

"I can't."

And with that, Dylan turns and walks away. No goodbye or anything. I shut the door; I'm not going to wait to watch his car disappear down the street.

It might look like I actually _care_.

**Page Break**

I really don't know where Coach is. Someone says that he went to take a leak and I guess he hasn't come back yet. You think he'd realize that being there for the half-time talk thing would be important, but apparently he couldn't contain his bladder for five minutes.

So I take over. Just because I'm the captain of this soccer team.

"What the hell do you think you're doing out there?" I yell. I'm finally letting it out because everyone on this team is playing like absolute shit and when you do absolute shit you deserve to be told.

"I mean, like honestly, you all suck. Can you get anything right? Shitty passes, shitty shots. And don't even start me up on the laziness out there. If you aren't going to fucking run then go the fuck home!"

I'm dead serious, glaring at all the players. They all flinch; a couple of them are crying. Good, they deserve it.

"Get your heads out of your asses and go start doing stuff right because you all suck! And don't even think about—"

"Max, shut the fuck up!"

It's JJ. My JJ; and she's turning against me. "What the fuck Jen?"

She gets up and pulls me away from the other girls. It's weird; last night I was her confidant about her boy problems and today she's siding with the rest of our shitty soccer team.

"Max, you can't yell at them like that. You're being a perfectionist freak! They're doing okay, but you have to stop yelling at them like that because they're already starting to hate you and you're making things worse!"

I'm startled. "They hate me?"

"Yes!" JJ whisper-screams in exasperation. "You always scream at them about how much they suck and they're scared of you and they don't want to be around you because nothing they do reaches your standards."

I shake my head. "I don't understand. If I can get it right, then why can't they?"

"They aren't obsessed with being perfect like you. They don't try as hard as you and you can't force them."

JJ is staring me down and I'm trying to keep all the emotion off of my face, but I'm frustrated beyond belief. I try to breathe as steadily as I can, and eventually get back to a healthy rhythm. Jen is giving me a questionable look, so I just tell her, "I'm okay."

The referee blows his whistle; we need to get back on the field.

JJ gives me a small, sweaty hug. "Just lay off them a bit. You can think about how much they suck in your head, but you need to go out there and be a team player. You'll win the game us anyway."

True.

**Page Break**

"I really don't need a ride, I'll walk. It's not far."

_Please leave me alone, please leave me alone, please leave me alone._

Apparently Lissa doesn't receive my telepathic message. _Dammit._

"No, Nick can give you a ride home. He'll just drop me and then you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, would you Nick?"

Nick and I look as uncomfortable as humanly possible. _Say no._

Under Lissa's glare, Nick caves. "Yeah, it's fine."

_Pussy_. He glares back at me. At least my telepathy is working with him. Sort of.

We pile into the car. I take the backseat and I make a goal of only staring out the window. I can't be in this small space with the two of them right now. I feel dirty, gross, bad. As soon as the car is on I roll my window down because I'm dying for fresh air and all the air in the car is stale.

Lissa is babbling on about the weather and Nick is nodding along with it but I'm not really paying attention to them; I'm paying attention to the cars we're passing and the wind rushing through my hair. The sun is out and is beating down on everything. It reflects off of the other cars and hits my face. Nothing is on my mind until Lissa is out of the car and it's just Nick and me.

It gets really silent really quickly.

I need to do something, so I snap my fingers.

"Could you stop?" Nick sends me a strange look through the rear view mirror.

I wish I could tell him I can't stop but I don't. I just keep snapping my fingers but I kick it up a notch so it's extra annoying for him.

He notices. "That's really annoying."

I snap as loud as I can. My fingers are starting to hurt but I don't even care because I can't stand Nick and he's the reason I can't even be in the same room as Lissa without feeling guilty.

I don't notice that he's pulled over to the curb on whatever residential street we're on. I blink.

He pulls the key out of the ignition and pulls up the hand brake before turning to face me. "Why do you hate me so much?"

He asks so plainly and calmly that I'm taken aback. I cough. "I wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick and hated me. Why do _you_ hate _me_? Like, you've just always been a massive asshole to me, and I don't even know why because I never did _anything_ to you."

He laughs darkly. Like full out _laughs_. I'm kind of scared at this sudden display of emotion; something must be terribly wrong with him. "The fact that you don't know what you did just makes you a bitch, you realize that? It's ridiculous. Do you think the world revolves around you or something?"

I scoff, but at the same time I'm actually kind of offended. Sure we'd fought, but he never seriously called me a bitch. Not like this. So now I'm wondering if I ever really did do anything to him.

I think, but nothing comes to mind. "I don't think the world revolves around me."

_Anymore_. I bite my tongue to keep myself from ending the sentence the way I should. _I don't think the world revolves around me anymore_. Because that's what I was like _before_.

But I was also stupid back then.

**Page Break**

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I don't understand why I have a phone because it's not like I have any friends left to talk to. Except my mom. My mom forces me to take my phone everywhere now so she can call me whenever she wants to check up on me. It's kind of sad, but she insists.

_Listen to me Max,_ she told me,_ I'm giving you this phone and you are to keep it on at all times, you hear me? If I call you and you don't pick up, I _will_ call the police. I'm not letting you scare me like that ever again._

So, of course, I answer. "Hi mom. Something wrong?"

I hear her sigh in relief over the phone. "Just checking in, making sure you're okay. Is the session going well?"

"Sure."

It's not exactly the truth, but it's not a lie.

My mom takes this in a positive way. "Okay Max, I'm glad you're okay. Call me if anything goes wrong."

"I will mom," I promise her. I love my mom, and I hate seeing her wrecked like this; especially because it's my fault.

"Bye, Max. I love you sweetie. I hope you know that."

My throat constricts tightly, but I manage to choke out a soft, "I love you too, Mom."

Dr. Wyatt gives me a strange look after I hang up, but doesn't comment.

**Page Break**

"Max, telephone!"

I peel myself off of the carpet. The floor in my bedroom is a little _too_ comfy. I meander into the hallway and look for the portable phone. It's not on the charger where it's supposed to be. I pop my head into Ella's bedroom. She's painting her nails a sparkly purple.

"Hey Ella, do you have the phone?"

She glares at me. Ella and I aren't exactly getting along right now. "Maybe."

I roll my eyes because she's acting like an idiot. Hiding the phone from me? Really? How fucking mature. "I need it. Someone's calling me."

She scowls at me and reluctantly tosses the phone over. More like whips it.

I catch it with my left hand. "Easy Ellie Bear. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself with this spiteful throwing. You could pull your wrist or something."

I don't hear what cuss word she's calling me because I'm already walking back to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me before I hit the 'talk' button. I'm expecting it to be Lissa or Jeff or maybe one of the other kids from school who want to talk about dumb things I don't care about.

But it's not.

"Hi, how's my little Max doing?"

I'm so stunned I don't say anything for a couple seconds. Eventually my voice returns. "Dad?"

Jeb Batchelder is my biological father. He moved away when I was eleven years old. He was offered a fancy scientist job in Colorado which he couldn't turn down. He calls me on my birthday and at Christmas, but since today is neither I'm worried. Maybe someone has died.

"Hey Max, how are you?"

I swallow. "I'm good. Um, has anyone died?"

He laughs. "No. What, I can't talk to my favourite daughter without someone being dead?"

That hits me hard. It doesn't matter that I'm his only daughter; therefore I have to be his favourite because I don't even deserve to be called anyone's favourite anymore.

I laugh nervously. "I guess you can."

"So is my perfect daughter still dominating the school sports teams and killing with her grades?"

I feel strangled. Jeb still thinks I'm perfect which is so far from the truth. He doesn't know how I've changed. He still thinks the world of me. It knocks the wind out of me and I'm starting to feel sick. I can't believe how highly my dad thinks of my—he's _proud_ of me—and I know I'd break his heart if I told him the truth; if he knew what I'd done. What I'd become.

So I lie. "Yeah. I'm doing great."

"Did you get elected for president?"

I worked so hard because I wanted to be the Student Body President. I was a shoe in to win it too, but I dropped out of the running. I didn't want it after _the incident_ happened. I lie again. "Yeah, I won by a landslide. It's really busy, but I'm glad I'm doing it."

I wince as the lie leaves my mouth. I sound so honest and innocent and I hate myself for it. I'm just waiting for my dad to call me out on the lies, to yell at me for being so deceitful.

Instead he's believes me fully. It's terrible. "I knew you would win. You're my little champion, after all."

"Yeah, dad," It comes out as I small squeak. I need to do this though; it's for the plan.

That doesn't mean I like lying to him.

And even worse, he sounds genuinely concerned when he asks, "Is anything wrong?"

"Um, I'm just a little tired. That's all," I cover up.

Jeb laughs lightly. "Get some sleep, Max. I'll try to call you soon; I've just been busy with work. Rest up."

I manage a small, "I will."

We both hang up. He'll go on with his life thinking that I'm still the perfect little girl who he used to take out for ice cream every Friday. And he would always give me the cherry off the top of his Ice Cream Sunday because I was his favourite daughter and he would make me hot chocolate on cold days with three little marshmallows. And I was the perfect daughter.

Except I wasn't. And I'm not. And he doesn't know that.

**Page Break**

Nick traps me in the library after school. He knows that I'm waiting for Lissa's cheerleading practice to end so she can drop me home. I would've walked home, but my feet have developed some nasty blisters and I really don't feel like enduring the 1.7 miles it takes to get to my house.

So instead I'm waiting in the library, reading my dumb biology textbook because we have a test tomorrow and I don't even know what unit we're on right now.

Naturally the person I want to see least has to bother me. He sits in the chair across from me.

"Hi."

I look up and him. "Do us both a favour and fuck off."

I need a rhythm to slow my breathing, so I tap my fingers on the desktop. Nick doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just doesn't care. "I think I'll pass."

"Why are you even here?" I close my textbook and glare at him. I'm hoping in my mind that he will spontaneously combust.

Sadly, this doesn't happen. Instead, he remains stoic. "You keep dodging me whenever I try to talk to you."

"I wonder why," I sneer.

He doesn't react. "I probably shouldn't have snapped at you in the car. I would say sorry, but I really am not."

I don't understand. Why would he come all the way over here to tell me he's _not_ sorry?

"However," he continues, "I need your help. I know it's strange; _me_ need _your_ help? But here's the thing: Lissa told me she loved me and I don't know how seriously she meant it. You're her best friend. Was she being legitimate?"

I roll my eyes. "You're suddenly a chatterbox. I think I liked you better when you were silent."

He glares. "Are you going to help me out?"

I first decide not to, but I guess when someone's as clueless as Nick they deserve to be helped out every once in a while. "Yes."

I start to pick up my stuff and put it in my bag. Nick looks confused. Well, at least in his eyes. "Yes you'll help?"

God he's dense. "Yes, she meant it. Lissa loves you for some inexplicable reason."

I sling my bag over my shoulder and begin to walk away when Nick grabs my wrist. "Thanks, Max. I mean it."

I attempt to shake him off, but he keeps his grip. I don't like it. "Your hand is on my wrist."

"I know."

We both just stare at each other. I don't know what to say or what to do because his gaze is so concentrated I feel a little dizzy. Not in a good way.

"What are you—"

"You know Max, you're not all that bad," he interrupts me because he's just rude like that.

I'm caught off guard. "Is that a compliment?"

He doesn't answer my question. "You're not like the other girls; you're different. If you had really hated me you would've told Lissa about what happened."

"Yeah, or I didn't want to get caught."

He shakes his head, pulling on my wrist so I move closer to him. "You aren't who I thought you were."

We're too close, and I need my space and I need to get away from him soon or else my lungs are going to stop working. His grip on me is like a vice and I don't know how to get out of it. I need to get out of it. His eyes are staring right into mine and we're only inches away from each other and the moment is too intense. I can't stay here.

So I do something awful.

I kiss him.

He's so shocked that he let's go of me and I'm running out of the library before he can say a word.

**I hate this chapter.**

**Please review to express your mutual hate.**

**On a different note, I'm going to aim to update on Wednesdays. "Why Wednesdays?" you may ask. Because Wednesday is the most awkwardly spelled day of the week! And that's how I like things: nice and awkward. I make no promises, but I'm going to try for every Wednesday.**

**Question of the day (I'm adding this segment from here on out...for no particular reason): What's your favourite colour(s)? Mine are purple and teal and silver.**

**Toodles!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Wednesday!**

**I had to bust my ass off last night in order to finish this chapter for today (Wednesday). So I hope you like it.**

**Highlight of the day: My friend gave me a discount at the "All you can eat" sushi bar she works at. YUM.**

Tyler Hemmingway is a ghost as he walks down the halls. He's there, but he's not the at all. People walk past him without a second glance. Tyler used to be a really attractive guy, but now he looks washed out, hardly existent.

He's practically dead.

No one pays attention to him as he floats down the hall.

No one but me.

Tyler wasn't here at the start of the year. He had begged his parents to home school him at the beginning of the year. Cried and begged until they let him. But now he's back, basically dying in plain sight and no one bothers him about anything. He's alone.

I watch him from where I stand at my locker as he passes me. When he walks he looks straight ahead, his eyes glazed over. I wonder if he sees any of us, or if he's in his own little world. I believe it's the latter; besides, it's better to be that way. Tyler used to be bulkier, bigger from football and wrestling, but now he's wasted away and his school uniform hangs loosely on his once large frame. Girls used to giggle about his "hotness" but now they don't. They turn their eyes away whenever he's near.

He's the biggest train wreck at this school; everyone's just waiting for him to explode. A walking time bomb if you will. Ever since he returned on Monday people have been whispering. They were whispering while he was gone too, but not everyone believed the rumours. Not until they saw him up close.

Some say he's cutting himself now; some say he killed his dog just to watch it die; some say he tried to cut out his heart, but his parents found him before he could do it.

Either way he's back now. Half-dead, but back.

I remember what he was like before though; he always smiled and was optimistic. He was the kind of guy who made everyone around him feel fuzzy inside—he just had that effect on people. No one had anything bad to say about him; his only major fault was his slight awkwardness in social situations. He was giving and genuine and he never spread rumours about people the way people are spreading rumours about him. In fact, he would break up the rumours, even if the rumours weren't about people he was friends with.

No one defends Tyler.

He's dying in plain sight and none of his old friends have the balls to talk to him anymore.

I watch him disappear into the Home Economics room, and through the open doorway I see him sit in the desk at the back. Alone.

I shut my locker and walk in the opposite direction.

**Page Break**

It's a strange feeling, I decide.

I'm sitting in my bedroom, sorting my old notebooks and binders from the school year into neat piles. I flip through my English binder. I look over the essays with 100% marked in their top corners as a reward for the hours I spent slaving over them until they were perfect. Reports I'd bullshitted my way through flawlessly. Everything is in a precise order. I close it and move onto my notebooks. They're still in pristine condition even after a year of abusive note taking and studying. I flip through page after page of careful, neat handwriting.

It's hard for me to think that these books and binders have been my life for the past year; countless panic attacks, immeasurable nights I spent awake until four in the morning stressing over homework. And here are all these books, just documenting each breakdown. A reminder of all the stress.

Megan and Jessica invited me to burn all my school books with them, but I passed up.

I can't give away a year of my life like that; it's mine to keep.

So I do what I do every year after school ends: I stack up all the binders in one pile, and all the notebooks in another and I slide them underneath my bed. And that's where they'll stay forever, untouched.

Or not.

**Page Break**

"Where do you think you're going?"

I really don't know where I'm going but it's better than here. I'm walking as fast as I can to try and ditch him, but he keeps gaining on me. And as if to make things worse, my backpack is so Goddamn heavy from all the textbooks I'm toting. My shoulders are in pain and these damn dress shoes I'm required to wear for the school uniform aren't helping me get away. At all.

It's only a matter of seconds before Nick catches up to me. "For fuck's sake, Max, will you stop running away?"

_No_. I keep the snarky comment inside my head, although I'm dying to let it out.

"You're difficult," he says blatantly, "You keep avoiding me, but I need to know why."

"Why _what_?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

I've been dreading this moment; hence the strategic avoidance. I've been sticking to Lissa like a good best friend and disappearing as soon as the final bell rings so Nick wouldn't have time to interrogate me like he is right now.

I'm so nervous that I tell him the truth. "I was trying to escape from you."

He narrows his eyes. "Bullshit. You could've gotten away easily, but you decided to kiss me. Why?"

I glare. "When you were overanalyzing that dumb kiss, did it ever occur to you that it didn't mean a thing and I don't care?"

He takes this well. "Yes. Did it ever occur to you that you may have meant it?"

"I haven't thought about it."

Lie. I've been thinking about that dumb kiss, but not in the way he probably thinks I have. I've been thinking about how I've gone and managed to mess things up again. I've been thinking about how I'm supposed to be done with these sorts of things because that's what I've decided for myself and it's too late to turn back. I can't turn back now.

Nick just stares at me for a few minutes, not blinking or anything. Okay, maybe he blinks, but not very often. I don't like it, it makes me uncomfortable. I squirm a little, yet for some reason I can't compel myself to walk away. My feet are planted in place and time is moving too slowly and I'm not getting enough air.

I snap my fingers.

"So that's it?" Nick asks five minutes later.

I nod, not trusting my vocal chords. They've been failing me recently.

I turn and leave. I end up walking home, because I kind of like the way the straps of my backpack dig into my shoulders and the pain in my back as the heavy textbooks way me down. And with every step I take forward, the heavier the bag seems to get. I wish I could take the books out and leave them behind, but I can't because I have to carry them until I get home, until the end.

Talk about metaphors.

**Page Break**

"Isn't it time for use to some sort of weird ritual to release my inner turmoil?"

Dr. Wyatt gives me the most bizarre look I have ever seen in my life. "You're shitting me, right?"

After I've gotten past the initial shock that Dr. Wyatt has cussed openly in front of me and doesn't care, I finally find my voice. "At the other therapists I was forced to visit, they started doing weird stuff, like pouring 'renewing' water on my head to make me a new person."

Dr. Wyatt is laughing. "Are you serious? Did they think it would actually work?"

I shrug, keeping my expression as blank as possible. "I think they were just frustrated about how evasive I was. But it was pretty hilarious. My mom asked me why I was dripping when I got to the car."

Dr. Wyatt can't stop laughing. I must be a comedian.

Not.

**Page Break**

Nick is at my house.

Well not exactly, he's standing outside the front door, but for me that's close enough. Since it's a Saturday, he's dressed in his regular out-of-school ensemble which consists of mostly black clothing. His hair is messy, reaching just past his earlobes and his skin is clear, as always. He looks good, but I really don't care. I just want to know why he's standing outside my house.

"Lissa called me about having an impromptu get together. She asked me to pick you up on the way to her house," he explains quickly.

I really wish Lissa would text me about these sorts of things because I'm still in my pyjamas and I _just_ rolled out of bed three minutes ago. My hair is messy and I have morning (or make that early afternoon) breath and I'm hungry as fuck. But Lissa says she wants to be more spontaneous, so she's planning to do it more. I don't think she realizes that planning to be spontaneous completely defeats the purpose.

"Um, you can come in to wait and I'll go get changed. Give me a second," I open the door a little wider and let him into the house. He seems nervous as he steps onto the doormat, and I shut the door behind him before dashing up the stairs and into the bathroom. I do the basics; brush my teeth, wash my face, brush my hair, put on clothes. I settle for a long-sleeved shirt and skinny jeans—they're distressed, but they weren't bought that way. They're just really old and I didn't have to pay extra money for them to have rips.

I grab my phone off of my dresser even though it's almost dead and head back to Nick. "Ready."

He nods towards the car. I play brick breaker on my phone so that I look busy and he won't try anything dumb like, I don't know, talk to me. Especially since our last conversation went _so well_ (note; sarcasm). I'm so committed to ignoring him that I don't notice Nick driving in a direction which is completely _not_ Lissa's house. It starts off as I wrong turn on West Ave, because he goes left instead of right, then everything after is history.

It isn't until the car has stopped and the keys are out of the ignition and I'm forced to look up to not see Lissa's house. It's not even close. "What the hell?"

"Come on," Nick says, getting out of the car himself. I hesitate, not moving an inch. Maybe if I sit here long enough, I'll disappear and reappear in my house wearing my comfy pyjamas; it doesn't seem to be working, so I get out of the car. Nick is giving me this look I cannot quite place.

"What?" I spit.

He just shakes his head. "Follow me."

And then he heads into the forest. I guess I have no choice but to follow him; it's not like I can walk home because I don't even know where the fuck we are. "Kidnapping is illegal, you know."

"So is sleeping with your best friend's boyfriend. And then kissing him. Just come on."

That shuts me up. Since I'm a captive in this situation, I might as well go along with it. Instead of concentrating on the fact that Nick lied to me in order to lure me out here—which by the way is very creepy—I concentrate instead on the scenery. The trees are all about twenty to thirty feet tall and I can hear birds in the trees. This forest is different to the forest by JJ's house; it's a little less dense, a little harder to get lost in, and nothing about it makes me want to throw up.

"I like this forest, nothing about it makes me want to—"

I catch myself before the last words slip out. I cover my mouth in shock because in no way did I ever want to tell anyone about _that._

Nick here's the beginning though. "Nothing about here makes you want to _what_?"

"Nothing."

And we keep trudging forward. The walk takes a little longer than three minutes, and I hear the river—more like a creek—gurgling along before I actually see it. But it really is a sight. We reach a clearing next to the creek and I smile slowly. There's a small, circular sitting area consisting of rocks around what looks like a hastily made fire pit. Trees canopy over the area and the sun reflects off the creek.

It looks a little too perfect. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.

"Why are we here?" The question is out of my mouth before I think it through.

Nick blinks. "We needed to talk. Alone. Where you couldn't run away."

I roll my eyes. "What if Lissa comes looking for us and finds us here."

"Lissa doesn't know this place exists."

I take a moment to let that sink in because it's starting to occur to me that Nick has taken me to this secluded place where he hasn't even taken his girlfriend of several months and something about this is wrong. I sit down on a rock because I don't trust my legs right now.

Nick sits beside me. "I don't get you at all. You're frustrating, you know that?"

I hate it when people ask dumb rhetorical questions.

Nick stands up and starts pacing quickly. His shoes leave track marks in the ground, and he walks so quickly that he's starting to make a slight ditch. His eyes look like a mixture of sad and angry and confused, all rolled in one. "And it's ridiculous because I know I should hate you but for some reason, I just...can't. You pull shit on me all the time and the worst part is I can't even explain why I can't hate you for it. It was so much easier when I just thought you were a bitch, because I oculd live on thinking you were a horrible person. But now I actually know you, it's so much worse."

I shell shocked because Nick is full out showing emotions and he never does that. I don't even know what to say because I have no clue what's going on. The world is slightly tilted to the left.

"I can't seem to hate you, which is awful because there's no doubt that you hate me."

He looks like he's in agony and it would be funny if I wasn't so scared. He looks as if he might punch something. Something like me. I instinctively bring my arms up to my chest so I can push him away if he tries to hit me or something. But he doesn't. What he does instead genuinely shocks me.

He sits down on a rock across the fire pit from mine and puts his head in his hands. I'm deathly still. For a few moments I think he's crying, but I trash the idea pretty quickly. He just looks...aggravated. Infuriated. Torn apart. Even worse, I think it's my fault.

Before I would have complimented myself for making him this indecisive and causing him so much inner turmoil. Honestly, I would be mentally patting my back and allotting myself 2.9 seconds to feel self-accomplished. Except, that was before. Now is after. And after Nick and I have slept together and kissed and we share a secret that's only ours, and now that we're forced together by this strange bond, it's different.

So instead of complimenting myself I start to feel this heavy ball building in my gut. Guilt. I need to fix this. I always need to fix it, except I don't always know how.

But I try. "I don't hate you Nick. I mean it. I mean, sometimes I hate you, but I don't really hate you."

He lifts his head from his hands and gives me an indefinable look. "That doesn't make any sense."

"You know what I mean," I snap, but softly. It is nearly as harsh as it normally is, and Nick knows it. His expression softens ever so slightly; it's hardly anything, but I've become so accustom to reading him that I know even the most minor movements mean the most. The smallest gesture is worth more than a million words he could say.

And in this one moment, we are suddenly okay. All the tension and anger and frustration that has been there for weeks and months and years is gone. It may only last for a few seconds, but it's a good feeling for the moment being. Peaceful, almost. I move to go sit beside Nick, who now has his hands resting on the knees of his black jeans, and a half smirk is playing at his lips.

We sit in the silence for a several minutes, just listening to the sound of birds fluttering through the greenery, occasionally calling out. A cardinal swoops down about ten yards away from us before flitting off somewhere else. The creek gurgles quietly as it moves downstream, northeast to southeast. The sun filters in through the tree leaves, casting a greenish light down. It's one of those days that isn't too hot, but it's not necessarily cold. The air is fresh, clean.

I pick up a stick which has been cast off to the side, and I draw in the dirt. I'm definitely not an artist, but the tip of the twig digs into the ground as I sketch basic shapes. A star here, a heart there, a big circle. I sign it off with a messy "Max".

Nick looks over at it and smirks. "Cute. Art school material."

I hit him playfully as I laugh along with him, because let's face it: I'm a shit artist to say the least. "Nobody's perfect, Nick."

"Don't you already know that, Max?"

It's not meant to be a dig at me—I know that—but I can't help but think it is. I try to act like it doesn't bother me, but it does. It bothers me so much I can't even describe it. Worst of all, I know it's true; and somewhere deep inside I'm feeling relieved that finally _someone_ is able to see through me and my bullshit, except if he can see through me I've got every reason to hide.

For some reason I can't compel myself to though, because it interests me in a way. How much could Nick see? I'm desperate to know. "I know."

It occurs to me that Nick and I have been here for hours, which isn't exactly normal, but I go along with it. Because I don't want to know what he has to say.

But I need to hear it.

Nick looks me in the eyes when he talks to me. "I called you out on it a long time ago. And I mean a _long time ago_. Back in elementary school."

I'm intrigued. "Was I that obvious?"

"You had everyone convinced that you were some sort of godsend, a perfect kid. And I saw the cracks. I mean, even I thought you were a perfect kid for a while, but I eventually caught on to you. There's only so much you can do before you slip up."

His gaze turns towards the distance, as if he's looking for something far away. Nick twists a twig between his fingers as he talks, and his words come out slowly. "Perfection is just the image you see until you start to notice the cracks. Once you see them, you can never go back."

_I know, I know, I know, I KNOW that._ I know it too well. I know it so well I start to shake in my seat. Entire trembles rage through my body, and I'm so sure I'm going to be sick right now, right in front of Nick and I can't let that happen. I snap my fingers. I'm shaking so hard that the snaps aren't coming out in a good rhythm and it's not working. I can feel myself losing control, and all I can think is "_not again"_.

It's not until the trembling begins to die down that I realize Nick's arms are wrapped around me tightly and he's mumbling things like, "Just calm down, breathe, okay? Breathe."

I heave in a breath, but no air seems to reach my lungs as I try again. I'm hardly aware of Nick's hand rubbing small circles on my back with careful fingers, an action which calms me almost instantly. I can feel my breathing becoming less desperate and steadier. My fingers, which had the hem of my shirt in a death grip, start to unfurl.

When I finally get back to normal, I realize something horrible; I just had a panic attack. A full out panic attack and Nick had seen it all. The terror creeps up on me so quickly that I don't know what to do.

Nick mutters so softly, I can barely hear the two words escape his lips:

"I'm sorry."

But I don't want him to be sorry because I deserve to get this sort of stuff because when you do bad things to people over and over again you need to get what you deserve. It's only right. I want to tell him this, but my voice is failing me again.

When Nick drives me home, the sun has just set. As he stops the car on my driveway, he reaches out and touches my wrist. The gesture causes me to freeze in my seat; I can't move away from him for some inexplicable reason.

He looks me dead in the eye as he says those three little words I've been dying to hear from him. "I won't tell."

I nod my thanks, and he lets me go. I guess that's just the way we are—we're bonded together by the secrets we keep for each other. It's unfathomable as to why we really trust each other; we went so long trying to tear each other down in any way possible. I don't know how we changed.

Maybe it was a mutual understanding between us.

Or maybe it's a mutual understanding that no one else in our world would understand us.

**Page Break**

"Hey Ella, are you coming to Jen's tonight?"

I'm going through my entire different make up collection and organizing what colour coordinates and what make up I might want to take with me when I go to get ready at JJ's. I set apart all the different supplies and pack them into my makeup bag.

Ella stands in the doorway to the bathroom. She's laughing at me. "Is it really necessary for you to categorize your makeup like that?"

She acts as if this is a real question. I roll my eyes at her. "Yes."

Ella rolls her eyes right back at me. "Whatever helps you sleep at night. And yes, I am going to Jen's tonight. Maddi said she would give me a ride there."

"Wear your new purple shirt," I tell her as she begins to make her way back to her own bedroom. "It's really cute on you!"

I can almost feel her happy blush from here. Ella is too cute.

**Page break**

Jeff's house always smells good. Always. Over the many visits to his house, whether it was hangouts or "homework", I have finally pegged the scent that seems to be everywhere: Green Apple Surface Cleaner. It's used on almost everything in the house: windows, desktops, mirrors, floors. Maybe on the walls too, it's everywhere, in the air and what not. The smell is subtle, but nice; like a breath of fresh air on a sunny spring morning. Crisp, clean, cool, welcoming.

For some reason this is what is on my mind as Jeff leads me down the hallway to his bedroom. Jeff's bedroom is that kind of clean, but messy at the same time. It doesn't smell bad thanks to the maid they have hired to come in on Mondays and Thursdays—he name is Trisha, and she's really nice; she taught me how to fold a linen napkin into a swan—but unlike the rest of the house, it doesn't smell like Green Apple Surface Cleaner. No, instead it smells like pine, like a forest, but not as muddy and less deer shit.

Jeff's room is huge, about three times the size of mine. One wall is lined with bookshelves with all sorts of literature. I've often wondered if his parents put them in his room so he would look really smart. One other wall has a plasma TV with a PS3 hooked up to it. Various science fair projects and multiple blue ribbons and football trophies litter open spaces. His bed looks like a king size and it's covered in expensive white bedspread and five crisp, white pillows.

He really _is_ rich.

Once the door is shut and locked, Jeff hesitates for a moment before he kisses me. It's soft and careful, like he doesn't want to hit a trip wire or something, or if he's scared that I might run away from him—well I do have a history of running away from kisses—before he deepens it.

I don't stop him.

He moves us to the bed before he kisses me again, his right hand finding itself on my left thigh as he slowly pulls at the bottom of my shirt with a patient hand. His fingers are long and decently calloused from various explosives and chemicals, and I can nearly feel the scar where his hand was burned by chemicals and never quite healed. My hands find their way to his hair, and I grip it tightly as I force myself to kiss him back. In the corner of my eye I can see the binder filled with Physics notes that I need to copy if I want to pass the course.

He pauses to take his shirt off, then I take off my own, and then my school required skirt so gone and so is his khaki pants. It's terrifying, because a few moments later we're both naked in front of each other and we both just stare. He pulls out a condom from his bedside table drawer. When our lips reconnect, I zone out. Far out.

Nothing is on my mind at all, but everything is at the same time. I'm thinking about how much I've changed and how far I've gone. I think about why. I think about my mom and Ella and Dylan and how I've kind of messed them up, but they'll forgive me for it eventually. And I think about school and how good I used to be at handing in assignments and getting things right when no one else could. If only they knew.

When I zone back in, Jeff is regaining his breath and there's five inches between where he and I lie. I have the sheets wrapped tightly around my body. Confusion surrounds me for a few seconds before what we did finally sinks in. I try not think about it.

We lie in silence for a few minutes before Jeff says nervously, "Whoa. Sorry if it sucked, but aren't you supposed to suck the first time?"

I think I would feel better if he had punched me. Because this is worse, so much worse. "You're a…you were a virgin?"

He nods slowly. "I had the option to do it before, but I guess I didn't want to do it for the sake of doing it. I wanted it to be someone who actually meant something special to me, you know? Those other girls were just dumb girls I didn't give a shit about."

But that hurts even more. Because he thinks I'm something special, and I mean something special to him; it's awful because we're strictly business and I'm hardly the kind of girl you want to care about, trust me. I can't breathe again and I can feel my gut twisting painfully in knots at the guilt that builds up instantaneously.

"I have to go."

I get dressed as quickly as possible and I rush out the door with a hurried good bye. I don't have the heart to ask for the pages of Physics homework because I can't get over how shitty of a person I am; I can't.

Because your first time deserves to be with someone who you genuinely care about and they have to care too, it's just right. And stealing that from Jeff makes me want to hurt myself.

I don't care that my blistered feet are just about bleeding in my dress shoes, or that my shirt is buttoned up wrong because I feel like my heart might explode with black dust or something. Something that shows how awful I really am. I run as fast as I can until I can feel my lungs burning and I feel like I'm going to die if I don't stop, but I can't stop. I won't let myself.

People walking by me look at me as if I'm insane—I can't blame them; what would you think if you saw someone running in dress shoes?—but I don't give them a second glance as I try to get home as fast as possible. When I do finally get there, I don't stop running. I run straight into the house, up the stairs, down the hallway and into my bedroom. I collapse as the bed side and I dig through the mountain of notebooks until I find the right one.

I flip it open to the last page and I soak in each carefully scrawled word. The Plan. I need something right now, and the Plan is the only thing real left in my life. I need to remind myself of what I'm supposed to be doing, what I'm supposed to be. I'm done step one, and I'm halfway through step two; I've come so far and it's way too late to turn back around. This is what I need , this is what I want.

I just lose focus sometimes, but I'm done with that. This is a reality check and I'm not going back.

Once the notebook is back in place I'm running again: running to grab the car keys. The drive always seems to take less time than the last, so I get there pretty soon and park the car. I skip the regular stuff and head straight for the forest behind JJ's house.

The party is at its loudest today; squeals of laughter ring through the air and the bass line is so heavy that I lose my balance walking down the path. The smell of alcohol and vomit is so overpowering that I have to cover my nose and breath through my mouth. Everything inside me wants to turn around and go home, but I have to do this. So I keep walking. To the clearing.

As soon as I reach it I'm on my hands and knees. My shoes are a mess and my uniform skirt is covered in dirt but I can't stop myself as my hands feel through the cool, dark earth. Searching, always searching.

_Max, you're being an idiot. You have never found anything and it's not going to change on the seventeenth visit._

Except, it does.

My hands feel the cool metal surface and I find it amazing that it's still here for me to find. I wonder if I'm hallucinating, but it's really there, and that's all that matters.

It's a miniature belt buckle, the type you find on a baby's shoes. It's silver in colour, about 0.7 of a centimetre in length, and kind of dirty. But I know that it came from a strappy pair of high heel sandals months ago. It's here for me, I was meant to find it. This is why I had to come here.

When I get home, I find an old, thin metal chain that has gone black in a few places. It has an old, metal heart pendant on it, but that doesn't matter. I wash the small buckle off until it gleams before sliding it onto the chain. I fasten it around my neck.

The necklace feels heavy; I'm not used to wearing jewellery around my neck. I like it that way though, because I always feel it. It's always weighing down on me and I always know it's there: a constant reminder that will be with me every day for the rest of my life.

I've done a terrible thing, and now I get to wear it.

**So I've been suffering from writers block, but I tried my best with this chapter.**

**Review? Your feedback is really helpful. Honestly.**

**Question of the day: What's one possession you would never want to lose? Mine would be my notebook—it's where I write all my poetry, short stories and songs. If I lost it, I think I would cry.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am so sorry. This is so totally late and it's completely my fault because I'm a procrastinator when it comes to writing.**

**Feel free to hate me.**

**Highlight of the Day: I was at my guy-friend's house when he asked me to blow him while he was playing COD so I said no. He asked if I could make him a sandwich, and I said no. He asked what I was supposed to be doing if I wasn't doing that like a REAL woman should (SEXIST PIG). So when he left to take a twenty minute phone call with his mom, I ruined his kill/death ratio and made everyone in the lobby hate him. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING A JERK.**

**...On with the story.**

I don't even like football that much.

But according to Lissa, I need to go to at least one football game this season; I would be a bad best friend if I didn't go to see her cheerlead at least once, right?

Right...

"Come on, Max! It's the last game of the season; you have to watch it with me! We'll sit together and eat concession food and drink blue slushies that they always sell at championship games. It will be fun!"

Maybe our definitions of 'fun' vary. A lot. "I don't know Lissa—won't you have to be cheerleading? I'll end up sitting by myself in the stands. I'll look like a total loner."

Lissa shakes her head, smiling. "I only have to perform during the half-time show. I'm yours for the rest of the game. Besides, someone needs to explain the game to me." She nudges me with her left arm. "And you understand football pretty well."

She nudges me again softly and I can't help but laugh and give in. "Yeah sure, I'll come. Just stop nudging me!"

Lissa pokes me in the side and I erupt laughing because that's literally my most ticklish spot; I can't control it; using it against me is just unfair. "Thanks Max! You're the best!"

I playfully slap her hands away from me because I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe. "Stop it!"

"Yeah! Take each others' clothes off!"

Lissa and I spin to glare at Jeff so quickly that we almost fall off the log. Jeff has a cheeky grin plastered on his pale face as he holds his lunch in his right hand. Nick stands beside him with an amused look playing in his eyes as he glances between Lissa and me. Sexist pigs.

Lissa rolls her eyes. "Don't you losers _wish_."

"Shhh, I'm imagining it all in my mind right now: a steamy girl on girl fight until I show up and you guys come after me—" Jeff says as he shuts his eyes. I slap his knees, and his eyes shoot open. "Just kidding."

But I catch him winking at me a couple seconds later. I can feel the inevitable heat rising up my cheeks, but as far as I can tell, no one else notices. I turn my head away from him and to my left, only to have my eyes meet Nick's. His expression is passive, and he doesn't do anything but blink. A blink can mean a lot though; it's like his way of saying we're cool now and everything is okay—he hasn't told anyone about the panic attack and we aren't about to rat each other out anytime soon.

And it's enough to relax me. "So what's the big deal about this football game anyway?"

Three shocked faces immediately turn towards me (okay, maybe it's more like 2.2 shocked faces because Nick never really looks shocked). Lissa is the first one to speak. "Um, the big deal is that the squad is finally able to pull off the routine I've been planning since the beginning of September! Like, completely on beat and everything! Alyssa finally got her double back handsprings to look perfect and we are totally going to show up those McArthur High bitches!"

Jeff gives her a looks of utter disdain. "What the fuck? No, the important part is that our team is in the championships for the first time in two years now that we have all our best players set up and a great captain; isn't that right Nick?"

Nick smirks slightly, and really his ego doesn't need inflation from Jeff because I'm sure he's already too full of himself from being the football captain this year. I don't even understand how he's the football captain since he doesn't talk, but I guess he somehow works his magic because the team has actually done really well this year, as far as I've heard.

I mean, at least that's what the morning announcements say. But they could be lying.

Jeff and Nick high five and I remember that they're really close. Like, _really_ close. Close as in they-could-totally-be-boyfriends-if -they-didn't-like-vaginas-so-much. Real BFFL material. Complete bromance.

Jeff looks excited, like a five year old at Disneyland. "So are you finally coming out to see us A.I.A.?"

I don't even try to hide my confusion. "What the fuck is that supposed to be an acronym for?"

"Awesome. In. Action. Although Max, you get to see us like that every day."

I scoff, but it's light-hearted. "Please. I get to see you every day in action, but I can assure you that it is not awesome."

Lissa giggles beside me and I smile. Lissa is the kind of person that makes you feel happy whenever you're around her. She's just such a positive bubbly person—just imagine the exact opposite of me—and she's nice to almost everyone: that's the reason why she's popular. Lissa isn't like the popular girls in movies at all—no, instead of earning her popularity through fear and bitchiness, she got to the top of the food chain by being friendly to everyone.

Well almost everyone. There are people who get on her bad side, and as soon as they're on her bad side, they're on _everyone's_ bad side. Because everyone sides with Lissa.

That's why Clarissa Jennings is a disaster. Clarissa spread shitty rumours about Lissa in junior year, and everything went downhill from there; especially since Lissa and Clarissa used to be in the same group, posse, clique—whatever you want to call it. It wasn't long before Clarissa was sitting alone at the lunch table; but I guess she's back into it now because Clarissa is a champion wrestler. Lissa says that she always _did_ have man-arms.

But that doesn't mean Lissa is ever going to talk to her again, and she'll never be popular again, and making friends is five times as hard for her now because no one wants to cross Lissa. Bottom line: just be nice back. With Lissa, it's not too hard; she's just so friendly.

Except sometimes she's too friendly.

I'm sitting alone in the bleachers at the football game. The air reeks of popcorn and slushies and sweat as the seats slowly fill up. Lissa is off getting us blue slushies since they apparently taste better than the red ones (I seriously doubt blue colouring tastes better than red, but I'll let her believe whatever she wants) and she promised me a bag of buttery popcorn to share.

The teams are warming up on the field and all I can think is _our team is going to get their asses kicked_. The other team consists of huge guys who look like they've been doing steroids since birth while our school's team looks scrawny in comparison. I'm looking to see who the buffest guy on our school team is when I see someone waving at me. It takes a couple seconds for me to recognize him as Jeff, with all of the football equipment and whatnot, but when I figure it out I wave back.

"Jeff's totally all over you."

Lissa materializes behind my shoulder and I kind of freeze up before I laugh nervously. "Nah, we're just friends. You know that."

_Friends don't hook up in secret, Max_.

I ignore myself.

Lissa's eyes dart to the field behind me. "Well, maybe he's sick of the friend zone."

I try to ignore that too. Instead I focus in on someone else who's standing next to Lissa. "Hello."

"Hi, I'm Brigid." I know her; she's in my physics class. She's a fifth year student who stayed behind rather than graduating last year. She's a total environmental 'global warming is going to kill us all' freak who runs dozens of campaigns to help the school and city 'go green'. In fact, she's so dedicated to saving the planet that she's only wears recycled clothes.

No offense, but eww. I don't want someone else's old sweaty gym clothes. It's actually unsanitary and dangerous at this school. Athlete's foot, herpes, bloodstains...just not the best idea out there.

Anyways, she's a total scientific genius. She's won so many competitions—like Jeff—and she's definitely going to be some kind of biologist when she gets older. The only reason she stayed behind for an extra year of high school is that she took all of her college funds and gave them to a wildlife organization; not exactly the smartest move, especially since she didn't tell her parents where the money went until it was long gone. Now she is staying an extra year to take more courses while she spends her evenings working to get back enough for college. Clearly she didn't think her plan through too well.

Lissa slings her arm over Brigid's shoulders. "I found Brigid by the concessions and since she was here alone, I thought she could sit with us."

Brigid nervously plays with her glasses; they're those big glasses with thin rims that people used to wear... let's just say their outdated. Her hair is a slight red, although the bottoms of some strands have faded into a strawberry blonde or plain blonde. She's pale, which is surprising considering the amount of time she spends outdoors tree-hugging, and freckles are splattered across her cheek bones. She smiles weakly. "I don't want to intrude."

I normally look for guidance from Lissa at moments like these, because when it comes to social interaction, I suck. Lissa's eyes urge me forward. _Oh, okay_. "No, it's no problem."

I stand up to shake her hand, and it isn't until then I notice how little Brigid is. Although she's a year older than me, I'm probably four or five inches taller than her. "Nice to meet you, Brigid."

Brigid hesitates before shaking my hand back. "You, too."

To be honest, the first half is kind of uneventful. It's exhausting for me since I spend almost the entire time explaining everything that happens to Lissa and Brigid who both can't seem to grasp the concept of the game, or the meaning of a "first down". I think it was easier explaining football to Angel. Lissa leaves to go warm up the rest of the girls on the squad when there is only one minute and thirty seconds left on the clock before half.

As soon as she's gone, things get really quiet.

It's not that I have a problem with Brigid—okay, maybe I do have a problem with her 'I'm more smarter than thou and I'm saving the earth' thing she has going on because it seems to be all she talks about; it's as if she thinks she's better than me—but it's hard for me to talk to her. I'm just not social like that; Lissa is for me. So I end up pretending to be really focused on the game while she picks at the lint on her sweater. Neither of us knows what to say.

Or maybe that's just me because she starts talking soon. "That's a nice necklace; where did you get it?"

Because of course she has to bring up the _one_ thing I really don't want to talk about. I swallow down hard. "It's just something old I had lying around at home. Just through some stuff onto a chain, you know?"

_Don't push it, bitch. _ Not exactly the best train of thought, but I'm not exactly thinking straight. I'm waiting for Brigid to ask a question that will genuinely piss me off, but she doesn't. Instead she grins at me. "Recycling old jewellery—great way to help the environment."

I nod awkwardly. "Yeah. I was trying not to waste."

And we're back to complete silence.

Our team is getting their asses kicked 23-10 and it's kind of embarrassing. They're setting up for a running play as the quarterback yells out for some of the linemen to get into position. It's easy to spot Nick because he has a bright yellow armband to symbolize that he's the captain. Once the play starts and he's got the ball in his arms, he's tearing down the field. He's fast, I'll give him that.

He goes about fifteen yards weaving in and out of players before the other he gets tackled by the other team's safety. Nick rolls out of it smoothly; maybe he didn't get a touchdown, but he did get a first down for the team (and trust me, they haven't had a lot of those).

Brigid sighs like a school girl—which, I guess she is—as she stares out onto the field.

I send her a weird look. "What's _that_ about?

She blushes fiery red in mortification. "Nothing."

But her eyes stays trained on what I finally figure out to be Nick. I roll my eyes. "Lissa is a very protective girlfriend. I wouldn't try to mess around with him."

But then I realize what a complete hypocrite I am considering what I've done and guilt kicks into my stomach.

"A girl can wish, right?" Brigid keeps her vision trained onto the field. I want to tell her that she's being pathetic, but I guess that would seem bitchy, so I keep quiet. We watch the cheerleaders do their routine which turns out to be better than the other teams, so Lissa will be happy. Brigid and I don't really talk.

When Lissa gets back, the chatter picks up again. I guess she just has that happy, social aura to her. Our team ends up losing 33-17, and after the game we bid Brigid goodbye.

Lissa insists that we wait for the guys to come out of the change room to congratulate them for a game well played, even though they didn't win. Why would you congratulate a loss?

"Come on Max, we have to cheer them up."

But I guess she's just like that; she always wants to make everyone feel better. She hates it when people are sad and she likes to be optimistic as much as possible. We are such polar opposites it amazing that we can stand being in each other's company.

We have to wait for about fifteen minutes before the guys walk out of the dressing room looking defeated—okay, maybe it's just Jeff that looks that way. Nick looks indifferent. That doesn't even matter though because Lissa's arms are wrapped around Nick as she tells him that he played well and that it's okay to lose sometimes. I hardly think Lissa knows what was going on during the game, but I guess that it's meant to cheer him up. This moment would totally have a touching, hallmark quality if Nick and Jeff didn't smell so bad.

Jeff smiles at me. "We got our asses kicked."

"No shit," I tell him, but I can't help but grin back. "So how did it feel to get tackled by that big cornerback?"

He shudders at the memory. "Let's just say I didn't like it."

I playfully punch his arm. "Please. You were probably thinking about how sexy and muscular his arms were. You definitely wanted to tap that."

I'm waiting for him to get all defensive about his sexuality and then make a joke, but instead he smirks at me smugly. "Max, I think you know that I'm straight."

I feel like a deer caught in headlights for a few seconds, until I notice that Lissa and Nick are in their own little world, hugging it out like we aren't there. I scowl at Jeff. "That's not funny."

He's 100% straight-faced as he replies, "Oh no, I take my sexuality very seriously."

We both laugh. Loudly. It's enough to break Nick and Lissa out of their little hug-bubble as they finally seem to realize that Jeff and I still exist. They break apart and Lissa coughs awkwardly. "Yeah so you ready to go Max?"

Jeff raises an eyebrow. "Go where?"

"Sleepover at my place," Lissa responds without missing a beat. His eyes light up for half a second before she adds, "You aren't invited."

Jeff takes this well. "Sleepover, huh. Are you girls going to have a pillow fight and wrestle with each other and exchange clothes and have bi-curious moments?"

We both hit him simultaneously. I roll my eyes. "Wow Jeff, I think you've been watching too many _American Pie _movies. It's not like that _at all_."

He raises his hands in surrender. "It's okay girls, no need to be embarrassed. What you girls do in the privacy of your own homes is okay."

But he's smiling like it's all a big joke, and somehow he can just get away with being perverted like that. Lissa grabs my arm to leave and I send one last smile back at them. "_Bye, _Jeff."

With that we're gone.

That night Lissa and I attempt to make chocolate chip cookies from scratch. I get flour all over my pyjamas and Lissa manages to drop an egg on the floor. It takes a while, but we eventually pull a successful tray of steaming hot cookies out of the oven. I scrape one off the tray and shove it in my mouth so quickly that it burns my tongue. "Owwwwww!"

Lissa is laughing hysterically beside me. "You moron! You're supposed to let them cool first!"

"Buu ips jus so ummy," I can't pronounce the words right as my tongue is in fiery hot pain.

She's still laughing at me, but she doesn't let me eat another until they're properly cooled off. I savour each bite of the cookie: the way the chocolate chips are gooey, the vanilla notes, the buttery taste. These aren't as good as my mom's homemade cookies, but they're still pretty damn good.

After I've eaten more cookies than any girl would ever want to admit to, Lissa and I sit down to watch a movie. _The Notebook._ I remember the one time I watched this movie with my mom on a rainy day, years ago when I was ten or eleven years old. I don't even remember what it was about or if I like it, but it's Lissa's absolute favourite, so I go along with it. We watch the previews at the beginning of the DVD, and I relish the feeling of a warm, overstuffed stomach.

"Thanks for the cookies, Lissa."

She turns to looks at me. She smiles, but it's genuine, complete contrast to the fake ones I tend to give her. "Well, I know they're your favourite. So we had to make them. It was fun."

And she means it, too. She just suffered through a long time in the kitchen to make me cookies because she wanted to make me happy, and she took the time to figure out they were my favourite. Because she's just so nice, and she cares. She's honestly my best friend.

It makes me hate myself.

**Page break**

"So why did everyone at your school hate you?" Dr. Wyatt is strangely calm as she asks this. She catches me off guard with the sudden change of topic.

But I manage to shrug and act nonchalant. "I wasn't exactly a nice girl. It's hard to explain. Why don't you ask the wasters at my school why they hate me; that might be more useful."

Dr. Wyatt gets an annoyingly smug look on her face. "The wasters at your school aren't the ones who ended up in a psychiatrist's office."

"Some of them did. Michael Hull has to see a shrink because his mom's ex-boyfriend used to touch him," I deadpan without missing a beat.

Dr. Wyatt sighs, but she doesn't seem frustrated. "Come on, Max."

"I can't answer your question."

That's a massive lie.

**Page Break**

Mom makes us have a family dinner on Friday.

"I never get to spend time with you girls, you're always gone. Can we just have one dinner together?"

And since I love my mom so much, and she's the best mom ever, I have to say yes.

I've forgotten how hard it is to have to sit next to Ella for the forty-five minutes dinner takes, especially when she's mad at me.

But she brings a friend.

Nudge is beaming at me as she enters through the front door. "Hey Max! How are you? You look really good today—not that you don't look good normally—it's just that today you look extra good. Did you do something different with your hair, like, get a haircut or something? And is your hair naturally like that, or do you have to get your highlights done by you stylist? Because I'm seriously jealous of it. My hair is like, hell."

She says it all so quickly that I have to take a moment to process it all. "No, my hair is the same. And the sun does my hair for me."

She grins. "Wow, you're so lucky. My hair is just dark brown, how plain is that? So anyway, thank you for letting me come to dinner with you guys. I mean, I know Ella invited me, but it was nice for your family to let me have dinner with you. I don't _ever_ have dinner with my family because my parents are always busy or gone and Nick just isn't the type, you know? So it's just really nice of your family to let me stay here with you guys because it kind of makes up for all the stuff that I miss out on at home. The thing I miss the most is—"

Ella materializes behind me. "Oh hey Nudge! Come on, I have some stuff to tell you. You won't believe it!" Ella pauses to notice me, and she glares at me. "Come on, Nudge."

Nudge sends a smile at me. "Well I guess I'll see you when dinner is ready."

I nod, because trying to keep up with Nudge in a conversation leaves me exhausted.

Dinner is awful.

It's not as obvious at the beginning. In fact, dinner starts out perfectly fine if you can ignore how angry Ella is with me, which I can. Mom tries to keep a conversation going, and it's all good.

Except, as the dinner progresses, Mom stops talking to me and focuses more on Nudge and Ella. "Nudge, it's so nice to have you around. I remember when you used to come over for play dates when you were younger. I'm just glad you're here so much to keep our company."

Nudge blushes happily. "Thank you for letting me come over so much."

"We love having you over Nudge. You fill the empty space most of the time."

It takes me half a second to realize that Mom is taking a dig at me for being gone so much.

Now Nudge looks embarrassed, but Ella looks so smug. I want to slap that fucking smirk off of her face. When Mom turns away, I flip her off.

But Mom just keeps going on about it. "You and Ella are such a blessing, always helping me out here."

I used to be that girl who helped mom out whenever she needed it because I used to be the perfect daughter. Mom used to always say things about how caring and wonderful I was, but now it's like I don't even exist to her. Mom used to look to me for everything, I was always available and now she doesn't even look at me. And as time passed, it finally hit me:

Oh God, they've replaced me.

I used to be so close to Mom and Ella but now that everything has changed, they have but Nudge in my place. Mom has Ella to be me, and Ella has Nudge to play me in her life. They don't want or need me in their lives and they're willing to get rid of me know that they've found someone that they like better than me.

And suddenly I can't be here anymore.

I shovel the rest of my food down my throat, and as soon as the last spoonful is down, I push the chair back asking, "May I be excused?"

Normally my Mom might say no to this, but I guess I look so freaked that she agrees. I'm out of the room and running up to my bedroom and shutting the door behind me. I can't be here anymore, not with them in the house with their perfect new family which I'm not involved in any longer. The one they have removed me from. The one they've decided I wasn't good enough for.

I start to snap my fingers and I pick up the phone, only to realize that I don't know who to call. I can't call Lissa or Jeff because they're both at the country club with their parents, doing rich person stuff and they won't be able to leave anytime. I can't call Dylan like I used to do _before _and I don't want to talk to any of the other girls from school. I don't know whose number I'm dialling until someone answers.

"Hello?"

I swallow. "Can you pick me up?"

Nick pulls up onto my driveway seven minutes and forty-six seconds later.

I don't hesitate before I run out the door and into his car. The car smells like leather and cinnamon and the grey seats are cold. He doesn't say anything: he doesn't ask what's wrong, doesn't ask why I called him of all people, and doesn't ask where I want to go. He just drives. He doesn't even look at me, or comment on how hysterical I look.

When we get to the creek, we don't talk about what happened. Instead we make a fire and roast hotdogs and marshmallows until its one in the morning and frigid cold outside. I can't feel my fingers at the moment and my toes are so frosty that they hurt. It's not supposed to be this cold at this time of the year, but I don't even care that I'm turning into a human popsicle; I'm just glad I'm out of that house.

Nick looks plain, normal, relaxed. His hair is messy and his jeans have dirt caked on the bottom cuffs. I look like a mess but we don't really care. We don't talk much, but it doesn't matter. We're okay with the silence.

"Are you okay?"

I think of all the ways I could answer that question, because in so many ways I'm fine, but in so many ways I'm not. I nod anyway. "I'll be fine."

And he doesn't ask about it anymore than that—doesn't pester, doesn't try to comfort me too much. We're just there, together. We feel each other in the atmosphere so we know we aren't alone, we don't really need to talk to recognize each other's presence.

It's kind of wonderful.

When he drives me home, he says those three words to me again; those words that fill me with security when nothing in my world really feels stable. "I won't tell."

It's like it's our sign off, our way to say goodbye. It's the best goodbye I've ever heard.

**Page break**

_Beep. _

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep beep beep beep beep beep beeeeeeeeep!_

I haul open my window in annoyance, but I'm laughing despite it. "Lay of the horn, Jen!"

She sticks her head out of the truck window. "Hurry your ass up, Max!"

I roll my eyes as I close the window and I grab the bag I've prepared to go by JJ's house. I fly down the stairs and into the foyer as I slip on a pain of flip flops and open the front door.

JJ is sitting in her dad's old, blue pickup truck. She hates the thing to death, but it's the only car her parents will let her drive. My mom is out front talking to JJ while I carry my bag over to them. JJ has her blonde hair up in a ponytail, and she's decked out in denim shorts and an unbuttoned plaid shirt overtop of a tank top. She looks like such a typical farmer girl that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing.

"Hey, did you collect the chicken eggs today, farmer girl?" I say when I reach the truck.

JJ's face flushes in annoyance, since I'm always making jokes regarding her farmland home on the outskirts of town. "Shut up, Max!"

But she's smiling anyways so I know she's cool with it. My mom just shakes her head as she moves to go back into the house. "You better take care of Max for me!"

"Hey!" I yell out indignantly.

JJ giggles. "Will do, Dr. Martinez! I'll be like a babysitter."

"Shut up, Jen."

I roll my eyes at her as I climb into the ancient pickup truck. JJ turns the music up about twenty notches on the volume controller and yells out, "Whooooooo!"

She shifts the car into drive as she starts heading towards her house. "This is a night we are never going to forget. _Never. Ever._"

You could say _that_ again.

**Page Break**

When I zone back in, Jeff is lying beside me in the bed. We're both catching our breath as I pull the sheets around my body like a shield. I eventually scavenge the floor for my clothes; however Jeff just stays in place as he watches me slip on my slightly crumpled school skirt and shirt. I love over to his mirror and try to flatten my ridiculous messy of hair; I have sex hair, and I have it bad.

Once it looks publically presentable I turn back to Jeff, who has found a pair of boxers and an old band t-shirt—Billy Talent. He reaches out with the taunting blue binder in his hand. I take it cautiously and tuck it under my arm.

He slips on a pair of sweatpants. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

The drive is mostly in silence; we don't say anything. I force my attention to whatever is outside the passenger window, although I can still feel Jeff's frequent glances in my direction. If I wasn't so committed to ignoring him, I would turn back and face him. Except I can't, because every time I see his face I feel guilty all over again.

He stops the car as he rolls up onto my driveway, and I can't help but think of how only a few days ago I had been in the exact same place with Nick beside me.

Jeff says three words as well, but different ones. "See you later."

I'm forced to look at him when I nod and flash a nervous smile, and he takes this as a sign that it's okay to kiss me; so he does. And the Cheshire cat grin that covers his face is almost too happy for me to stand. I don't deserve that smile.

When I get inside I head up to the bathroom and start up the shower before I slip my clothes off. I carefully place the necklace onto the counter, and I feel slightly lost without the pressure of it on my chest. I need it there to remind me of what I'm supposed to be paying for, what I need to do better.

I step into the hot spray of the shower—hot showers have always been my favourite way to calm down, to relax, but I don't want that so I turn the dial back until the water starts to cool down. I can't handle that and I miss the necklace already.

And I sit there in the tub and let the icy cold water pour down on my head while I scrub my skin with a loofah until it's raw and red and peeling off. Because I need to get this feeling off of me until I'm clean again, but it doesn't come off.

It never comes off.

When I get out of the shower my entire body is numb and the skin on my arms and legs is bleeding.

_Good._

**I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so**

**SORRY. That I took so long to update. Sadly, I think I'm going to have to give up on this "every Wednesday" thing and go back to "Publish whenever I finish the chapter" since I'm back in school now (FUCK).**

**Anyways, sorry guys.**

**Please don't be too mad?**

**Leave your comments/concerns/hateposts/flames in a review.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi.**

**Here's Chapter 11.**

**Enjoy, my little Munckins.**

**Uhhhh, ignore that I said that. That was weird.**

**This one's a little short, but I hope you still like it :)**

**Highlight of the day: Today I started to make a smoothie, but then halfway through I realized that I didn't have any milk to put in it. So I used Five Alive juice instead; they're practically, the same thing, right? :P**

"Hey, Max."

I turn to face whoever has disturbed my peace because it's about time people learned not to bother me.

Tyler Hemmingway smiles nervously. "Sorry if I startled you or something."

The air rushes out of my lungs like lightning because he is so close to me, about one yard apart right now and the last time I stood this close to him was on the night of _the incident_. I've seen him around the halls and everything, but up close he looks much worse than he has from afar. He's ridiculously skinny and his face looks a little shallow. Dark circles surround his eyes from sleepless nights, and his hair is wiry and thinned. He looks like he's come back from the dead.

He might as well have.

I swallow down hard and force a smile; I hope it looks vaguely sincere. "I heard you were back."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess my parents got tired of having me at home, so they sent me back here to this hellhole. Clearly they love me too much," his expression matches his sarcastic tone, but then his smile wavers and he shakes a bit as he lowers his voice. "So how have you been?"

I glance behind me to make sure no one is eavesdropping on this conversation, but no one is around us and the hall is almost empty. "I'm surviving, for now."

Tyler holds my gaze. "I'm trying, but it's a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, you know?"

I'm just staring at him and his hollow face and pale skin and how he's such a complete mess right now, and it's horrible. How could Tyler fall from being healthy and attractive to what he is now? He looks like a walking skeleton. I don't think I can look at him for much longer, and I can feel my stomach starting to shift. I want to tell him so badly, but I can't.

He seems to notice something's wrong, and he awkwardly wraps his arms around me in a hug. I can feel his ribcage pressing into me as his wiry arms in case me, and all _oh my God, I think I'm going to be sick_.

I start to snap my fingers.

_Let me go, let me go, let me go, Tyler._

He releases me from his grip. I heave in a breath as I can feel my pulse returning back to normal and I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. I don't know what to say with him, but I do know that I can't handle being around him much longer.

He seems to recognize this. "You know, being back here is difficult. It just emphasizes everything, seeing everyone's faces, but she's not here anymore. It's just hard."

And he leaves me there.

_Yes, it is hard._ _Oh Tyler, you don't even know._

I straighten up and fuss over my clothes until I feel calm again. I look back into my locker only to meet my small, magnetic mirror face to face. Tyler looks like a disaster and I look just as good as I did _before_, maybe even better; not broken at all. I fucking hate mirrors.

I pull it off the locker door and throw it, face down, to the bottom of my locker.

_Mirrors are suck fucking liars._

**Page Break**

"So you were hanging out with your best friend's boyfriend behind her back."

It's not a question or an accusation, it's simply a statement.

I keep my face stoic as I slouch back into my seat. I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down to cover my hands as I think of how I'm supposed to respond to this. For some reason, I use the truth. "I don't know why, but we just were comfortable around each other. It was simple; we were friends."

Dr. Wyatt raises a sceptical eyebrow. "It's funny; nothing about that situation seems simple at all."

**Page Break**

Nick's house is familiar to me by now; although I'm not sure whether this is something to be proud of or ashamed of.

I decide it's a little bit of both.

I gaze out the window facing the backyard and just stare at everything out there: the barbecue, the wooden picnic table in the back corner which is covered in paint stains from when me and Nudge used to finger paint. The tool shed is on the right side and the green paint is peeling off the side of it, but what really catches my attention is the swimming pool. There is nothing really special about it; it is simply a kidney shaped in-ground pool with a dark blue liner. Nudge and I used to swim together and play on the deck when we were younger: countless games of 'Marco Polo', splash wars, and fighting over inflatable toys. At least, until I almost drowned.

My mom wasn't too keen on letting me swim much after that.

"You okay?"

I turn towards Nick, and I contemplate faking a smile at him, but then I realize that it doesn't matter if I do because it's Nick, and he understands. I don't need to pretend with him.

"I'll be fine," is my answer as I move away from the window. "Are your parents around? I haven't heard them or anything."

He shakes his head softly, his long-ish hair shifting with the movement. "They're away on some sort of business thing."

I smirk at him. "Way to care about the whereabouts of your 'rents."

"They're hard to keep up with."

He doesn't say anything else about it, but there's just a weight in his voice that tells me everything not everything isn't just 'peachy'. I don't press it though, because I know if he wants to tell me, he will.

The couch in Nick's house isn't small, yet somehow we end up pressed against each other as we watch re-runs of _The Simpsons_. My mind is half focused on the television and the other half is far, far away. I glance over at Nick from the corner of my eye. I still find it amazing that we have come so far from where we used to be at the beginning of the year. I'm awestruck by how close we've gotten over the past few weeks and how easy it is for me to be with him, how much I trust him.

I know Lissa is supposed to be my best friend and all, but sometimes I feel like I can't tell her anything because she wouldn't understand it. Or other times, if I'm feeling sad Lissa wants to cheer me up by talking about my problems, except I don't want to talk about my feelings. I hate emotions; strangely Nick and I seem to have that in common. We don't pry into each other's lives about things that we don't want to talk about.

I glance back over at him, only to catch him looking back at me. I don't know why, but I'm instantly compelled to look away and blush.

Something must be terribly wrong with me. Maybe I'm sick and it's causing me to act like an idiot.

And later after the television has been turned off and we're just sitting in the dark of the room together, all I can think is that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. I sigh lying back and stretching my body out across the couch. "Sometimes I wish could back out of life and take a break. Does that make any sense?"

Nick nods slowly, flicking my foot which is resting on his lap. "Oddly enough, it does. I get that."

"I mean," I continue, staring at the ceiling, "and sometimes I just feel like no one understands me."

I can fell Nick shifting in his spot. "It's as if you act like someone else just because who you really are won't ever be accepted by anyone. I know what that's like."

And then we fall into this silence, and I close my eyes because I feel at peace for the first time in a while. Nothing is on my mind, and the sensation is kind of beautiful in a eerie way. I can hear the vent system and the sound of the dishwasher going, that slight humming noise, and it's all so relaxing. Like nothing is going on in the world and time has taken a break.

It isn't until about twenty minutes later that Nick speaks. "I make playlists."

That breaks me out of my trance and my eyes snap open. "What?"

"Musical playlists, like on iTunes sometimes," he explains as he looks at me with no expression on his face. Except I can see the softness of his eyes, and the way his fingers are dancing anxiously in his lap and I know that he's not exactly comfortable with saying this out loud. "They just make me calm and stuff. I make playlists for important things in my life, just look for songs that I feel describe what is going on and how I feel as soon as I can't express it in words."

For a few moments I don't say anything because I'm confused as to why he's telling me this and what point he's trying to get at.

He seems to realize this. "I don't think anyone else would understand that. I've never told Lissa or Jeff or anyone because they would probably just think I'm messed up or something."

I see his jaw tighten, and his eyes narrow a bit. I know what it's like for people to think you're messed up, and I know it well. I sit up and rest my head on his shoulder. "Everyone is messed up a bit. Some more than others, but they're still a bit messed up. Don't worry about it."

And we let silence take its place again.

I leave his house at 11:57, but before I go I stop to say, "I won't tell."

He half-smiles at me.

When I drive home, I have a sudden moment of panic when I can't feel the necklace and I clutch my neck to make sure it's still there weighing down on me: it is. The thing that bothers me the most though is that I hadn't really felt it, felt the weight of it while I was at Nick's house; it was as if I was free of it for a few hours and it leaves me feeling uneasy. My stomach fills with dread.

_You're being ridiculous, Max. You'll always feel it. Every day for the rest of your life._

I can't get distracted now, because I'm already halfway to where I want to be, and no one is going to disrupt that. I need to remember what I'm supposed to be doing, what I'm supposed to be paying for. My burden.

For the next two days I can't eat a thing.

**Page Break**

"Your mother was concerned that you had an eating disorder."

Dr. Wyatt peers at me. I try not to roll my eyes. "I didn't have an eating disorder."

She flips open her little 'Max' folder and goes through page after page until she finds one she is satisfied with. "Valencia said that she was worried that popularity and peer pressure might have been making you feel insecure about your body."

I can't help it, I laugh sardonically; because in a twisted way, this is kind of funny. "I did _not_ have an eating disorder."

She gives me a look.

I shrug. "I wasn't purposely starving myself; I wanted to eat, I just couldn't."

**Page Break**

I stare at the plate in front of me, and it looks delicious. Steaming, but not too hot, the spaghetti and meatballs look absolutely perfect in any way food could: perfectly coloured sauce, meatballs being nearly 100% spheres, and evenly spread out spaghetti. And I want to eat it so badly.

I just can't.

Every time I pick up the fork and prepare to stab a meatball, or pick up some pasta, my body freezes up; something in my body just won't let me eat it. I can't explain why, but for some unknown reason I'm not able to eat the damn food.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Are you okay, Max?"

Mom's eyes are practically drowning with concern, and normally I'd snap at her and say I was fine and that she needed to stop worrying about me so much, but today I feel too pathetic. So instead I just shake my head slowly. "May I be excused?"

I close my bedroom door behind me and lie down on my bed. This is the sixth meal I've missed in a row, and my stomach is rebelling in against itself. I feel that hollow ache as I lie there in pain, hungry beyond belief, and yet not willing to go back downstairs to the perfect plate of food—I don't want to look at something I can't have.

_I think I'd rather be dead than feel like this_.

My stomach is curling, crying out for food and I want to scream, yell, punch something; anything to make it all go away.

And in the midst of the pain I can't help but think: maybe this is exactly what I've wanted: to be in pain.

To finally get what I deserve.

I lie awake for hours hoping my stomach would eat itself and then the rest of my body until I eventually disappeared in this bed and everyone would wonder where I went, but I'd just be gone.

**Page break**

"You couldn't eat?"

"It's a simple concept; my body wouldn't let me eat. I would just stare at the food, but I wouldn't be able to force myself to eat it."

"You scared the shit out of your mom and sister."

"I know; but it wasn't my fault. It's not like I could control it."

**Page Break**

"Why are you here, Max?"

I'm practically caught red-handed. Nudge is looking up at me with big, confused eyes. I swallow my nerves and fake a smile. "Nick and I are working together on a project for Functions."

In my head, I'm praying to God that I sound believable.

Maybe God listens, because a big smile encompasses Nudge's face. "Okay. I'm just heading over to Michelle's house for a sleepover with some of the other girls from school. Ella's going to it too; did Ella tell you about it? Never mind, she probably didn't because she says that she's been doing homework all day and hasn't had much time to do anything, so I highly doubt that she would've had the time to tell you about it. Michelle says that she's heating up the hot tub, so I'm totally pumped for that because apparently they did some stuff on it and it looks a lot nicer now. And then we're going to watch movies and stuff. Doesn't that sound like so much fun?"

I think the term "verbal abuse" needs to be redefined. "That sounds like so much fun. I hope you enjoy yourself while I'm stuck doing _math_."

She laughs, and I smile for real; Nudge's constant happiness is just infectious. Like swine flu. Nudge hugs me. "I guess I'll see you around, Max."

I nod as I watch her disappear into the garage, and I stand still until I hear the sound of the car leaving. After I'm certain that she's gone, I head down the hallway and down the stairs into the basement.

"What took you so long?"

Nick peers at me from where he lies on his bed.

"Well, I had a run in with Nudge. I told her all about the project we were working on for Functions class," I say, half-annoyed. "Next time, could you please warn me if other people are going to be in the house?"

He smirks playfully. "I didn't realize she was still here; it won't happen again."

I go and flop down next to him on the grey bedspread and the entire mattress shakes. "Well I guess I can forgive you this time...maybe."

"You'll forgive me," he says in that cocky voice I used to hate so much.

Now I just really, really, really don't like it.

I scowl. "Nope."

He rolls over to look at me. "Yes you will."

"No, I won't."

"If you won't forgive me, I'll make you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

And then he attacks me. Tickle attacks me. It was only about half a second before I burst into laughter. I struggle against him and squirm, but the second he finds my weak spot—the most ticklish part of my body, right between my ribcage and hip bones on both sides—he's won. I'm laughing so hard, I can't breathe and I have no control over it.

"Are you going to forgive me now?"

Nick has an unbearably smug look on his face as he continues to tickle me.

I'm squirming like crazy, and Nick is holding down my arms and legs so that I can't kick or hit him. "No."

"Okay."

Then he tickles me even more. My laughs are on the verge of being hysterical, and I'm gasping for air; I don't know how much longer I can take this. "Stop it!"

Nick smirks slowly. "So I'm forgiven?"

I manage a snarky, "No!"

"Well I guess I can't stop then."

And he continues at it and I seriously think I'm going to die if I don't get air soon, so I manage a gasped, "Fine, I forgive you."

"Are you sure?"

He always has to push it, doesn't he? I squirm. "Yes!"

Nick finally lets me go and I lie on the bed, catching my breath. When I finally get my breathing back to normal I stand up and walk away.

"You look like you're about to kill someone," he says calmly, like this is an average, everyday statement.

I turn and glare at him. "Yes, I might kill someone. Guess who?"

I finally get to the bathroom and I turn on the lights, and my jaw drops immediately. "Shit my _hair_!"

I can hear Nick snickering from the bed. "Wow max, I never took you as the kind of girl who was obsessed with her looks."

I glare at him accusingly. "I look like I just had sex!"

It's true though. My hair is mussed incredibly, and my clothes are bunched up and crumpled; everything looks very suspect. I try to flatten it out, while Nick materialized behind me in the mirror and tries to hold back laughter.

I narrow my eyes at him in the mirror. "Shut. Up."

And then something weird happens.

He reaches his fingers up to my mangled hair, smoothing out some tangles with a slow, delicate hand. I feel myself freeze up and shivers run down my spine. "What are you _doing_?"

I turn to look at him directly instead of using the mirror. It's only then that I recognize just how close we are. My mouth opens to say something, but no words come to me. And I _always_ have a sarcastic comment to say.

Except right now my voice fails me.

_Fuck you, vocal chords._

His hand reaches up to brush my damn sex hair out of my face as he whispers, "You aren't half as bad as I thought you were."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" It's meant to sound snarky, but it comes out too softly and sounds kind of lame.

Instead of answering (because he's rude like that), he kisses me, suddenly. I feel my eyes widen in shock for a second before all of my sense gets drowned out by kissing.

Worst of all, I can't help but compare the way Nick kisses to Jeff. Jeff is much more hesitant and careful, while Nick is confident and overpowering. Jeff asks permission while Nick just takes charge and does what he wants.

And I think I might like it.

One of his hands curls into a fist around my hair while the other travels down my side and settles at my waist. My fingers are tangled in his soft, dark hair as he presses our bodies even closer together. He pushes me back until I hit the bathroom wall, kissing me so fiercely I can't describe it. My head is spinning and I'm getting dizzy, but I can't figure out why.

Oh, right. Air.

He breaks away from me and we are both panting like we've just run a race or something.

That's a bad similie, but my brain isn't back to being 100% functional yet. Making out will do that to you.

When we've caught our breath, we just sort of stare at each other because my stupid brain finally processes what just happened; Nick and I just made out. Like, seriously made out. And we were both sober.

What. The. Fuck.

Nick's eyes have some unknown emotion in them as we gaze at each other as if we're in a trance. I snap myself out of it as my eyes travel down to his lips, which are slightly swollen and red from kissing and I can't believe that _I_ did that. My eyes meet his again, and I don't even know what to feel because all of my emotions are swirling in a strange sort of cyclone inside me and I don't know how to handle it.

But then I do. Nick and I say it simultaneously. "I won't tell."

And he kisses me again.

**Page break**

"So attic bedroom with Dylan, huh? You better use protection. Wouldn't want you kids to have a perfect blonde little baby who was good at everything and super smart."

I punch JJ, despite the fact that she's driving and may very well kill us both in a fiery, bloody car crash. "Shut up! I don't make fun of you and Tyler like this."

JJ rolls her eyes. "That's because Tyler and I don't have very much to make fun of. I mean, we aren't robots sent from the future where everyone is perfect so that present day humans feel inferior."

I punch her again. "There are lots of things to make fun of you guys for!"

"Like what?" she scoffs.

I grin evilly. "Like how incredibly cliché you guys are, and how he calls you his 'jellybean' and you call him 'Ty bear' and you act like an old, married couple. Gross. And you're just so...cutesy."

As if to emphasize my point, I gesture towards the sticky note on the dashboard that says:

_Hi my little jellybean, I hope you're having a great day. You look gorgeous._

Tyler had written that and stuck it in her car, which is mushy enough on its own, but it's even worse since JJ has kept the note for the past month (yes, I know—it's disturbingly adorable).

JJ blushes instantly, but she manages to keep her cool about it. "Yeah, whatever Max. You're so totally jealous of us and our nicknames and our cute little notes. Deep down, you're green with envy."

"Whatever you say," I let it slide as I roll down the truck window and let the breeze hit my face since there's no air conditioning in this "old shit-box from pre-historic times" (JJ's words, not mine).

JJ's playful glow disappears a few seconds later and I can see the concern painting itself on her little farmer-girl face. "So have you told anyone about the panic attacks yet?"

**Page break**

_Breathe; one, two, three. Breathe; one, two, three. Breathe; one, two, three._

I lift my head to catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I look terrible, but I guess that's a good thing; my outside appearance finally looks the same way as my inside does: fucking disgusting. Inner beauty? Bullshit.

I collapse to the floor, focusing on my breathing which is progressively slowing and regaining its rhythm. I snap my fingers: Breathe; one, two, three.

Everything is out of control, and I'm not supposed to let that happen. It's my job to keep things steady—it has always been my job—and now it's all threatening to fall over on me.

_You can do this, Max. You owe it to her at the very least._

I can't forget it all, and all I can do is move forward. I know what I want; it's just that sometimes I get a little distracted. But I'm back on course, I promise. I'm going to see _The Plan_ through. I don't know how I've gotten so soft, since last year I was able to manage all of this and more.

_I can do it_.

With shaky legs I stand up and straighten out my clothes. I'm not messing up this time because people can only make so many mistakes, and I've made enough mistakes to last a lifetime. No more messing up, it's time to get things right.

_I'll get things right this time._

No more getting side tracked, no more procrastinating. I can't let myself get away with all of the things I've done.

_I'll make it up to you._

Because that's what you deserve, and that's what I deserve.

_I promise, Jen._

And maybe I can finally fix things.

_I won't stop until things are right._

**Page break**

Thursdays suck.

They're just so taunting; you're so close to the end of the week, but you still have one more day to go. It's even worse when you mistake a Thursday for a Friday, and you're all excited until your alarm clock goes off at precisely 7:21 AM and you realize you're stuck in hell for one more day.

But this Thursday sucks even more than normal Thursdays because it's raining, meaning that instead of eating outside we're confined to being in the school cafeteria. It always smells like stale French fries and slight B.O. in here, and there aren't nearly enough tables to accommodate the entire school population so everyone is crammed together at tables although there's no way all the students can really fit.

I'm sitting next to Nick and Lissa and Jeff are facing us from across the table. Lissa is telling us some story about how some kid kept saying 'orgasm' during an oral presentation in her Biology class today and no one stopped to tell him until the end. I pretend to be interested, but I can't really concentrate on anything because Nick's hand is on my leg underneath the table and it's kind of (extremely) distracting.

He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from hitting Nick. Could he have worse timing? He brushes back the edge of my plaid skirt, and I'm totally cursing the school for enforcing uniforms. And cursing him as well, of course.

I sneakily elbow him in the ribs. _Fuck off._

His ribcage shakes slightly, as if he's laughing or something; maybe containing his laughter, and I want to punch him because this isn't fucking funny. His hand slides up higher and my hands curl around the hem of my shirt.

_Fuck off you fucking moron, before I fucking stab you with my piece-of-shit plastic cafeteria knife, you dumb son of a—_

"What do you think, Max? God is she deaf? I've fucking had to ask four times."

I cough nervously. "Sorry, I zoned out for a second. What did you say?"

I can practically feel Nick's invisible smirk, but I know for a fact that his face is stoic and I _refuse_ to look at him right now. So instead I look of the other side of the table.

I feel Jeff's foot nudge mine underneath the table, and I look up to see his eyes going over me once. He sends me a small smile.

_Seven?_ He mouths when Nick and Lissa aren't paying attention and I force myself to nod at him. Because I still need to pass stupid Bio and Physics to graduate. So 7:00 it is.

I inwardly groan.

I glance between Lissa, Nick, and Jeff, and how much the dynamics of our little group have changed so much since the beginning of the year. And how I'm in the middle of it all.

_Look at how you've fucked things up, Max._

When the warning bell goes off five minutes before classes start back Jeff sends a wink at me and Nick gives my thigh one last squeeze before we all get out of our seats and disperse and I'm finally alone while I make my way towards my next class.

_What a mess I've made._

**I'm a little shaky on this one, so please review? It really does help.**

**Question of the day (I missed the last one, so I'll do two this time):**

**1. Who's your favourite Maximum ride character? Mine's Iggy. I'll love him forever (L)**

**2. What's your favourite movie(s)? I'd have to go with "Mulan", "Mean Girls", and "How to Save A Life". If you haven't seen any of these, I highly recommend them.**

**Until next time!**

**Meows**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm late, I'm late, for a very important [up]date.**

**Okay, so not so important, and I apologize for the lateness. And the Alice in Wonderland reference.**

**So I hope you like it. ;)**

**Highlight of the day: my teacher talked about Jersey Shore and his favourite characters for almost my entire class. He says our homework is to watch last week's episode if we haven't already so we can have a better class discussion next time. WTF?**

"Whoa."

Nick is back to speaking only in one-word sentences. Lovely.

But secretly, my mind is thinking the exact same thing as his: whoa. As much of a douche bag as Nick can be, he really does have a talent with his tongue. He could probably win a gold medal at the Olympics for being a champion kisser.

Okay, that was weird. Pretend I never said that. Thought that. Whatever it is, I didn't do it.

Right.

We're the only two people at Nick's house today, and I like the quiet. My house always seems to be busy, so it's nice to relax for a while; just breathe. The whole world is silent, and the sound of us breathing slowly is the only thing in this room. It's beautiful.

Except, it can only last so long. Nick shifts on the couch, but his arm is still draped over my body and I can feel his body heat radiating onto me. "So what happens now?"

We've been sneaking behind everyone's back for about two weeks since the first time we made out (you know, without being under the influence of alcohol) and just hanging out, or making out. Same thing, pretty much. I groan inwardly at the way the conversation is going, but I guess I couldn't avoid it forever like I'm trying to do.

So I shrug slightly. "What do you mean?"

I know exactly what he means, I'm just trying to pussy out of this conversation because I hate having to DTR (define the relationship).

He notices. "You can't ignore it forever. It's been a couple weeks. Max, and I'm not sure what to do."

_Don't suggest something stupid, like going out on a real date or something gross and coupley like that._

"It's about time I broke up with Lissa."

That's not exactly a good suggestion either. "No! You can't break up with her!"

The exclamation is so sudden and unexpected that Nick blinks—his version of complete astonishment. I'm a bit surprised myself, because I hadn't meant to say it like that. At all. It just came out all wrong.

So much for being cool, calm, and collected. "I mean, not now. You can't do that to her."

Nick gives me a quizzical look—but not too quizzical, since that would be too expressive. "I'm cheating on her—isn't that the bad part? Isn't a guy supposed to break up with a girl instead of letting her believe in a false happiness?"

I roll my eyes. "Fuck no. Isn't there that saying that goes like, 'ignorance is bliss' or something?"

Nick sits up and looks down at me, as I am still lying down on the couch, and nearly glares at me. "Max, I don't want to have to sneak around with you everywhere. I can barely talk to you in school without it seeming suspicious, I can't touch you or hold your hand or kiss you before class. I just want to stop hiding everything."

I bite my lip while I think, because he really does seem upset about this. I mean, his face doesn't show very much, but I'm just making an inference here. I meet his eyes. "I know this sucks, but you just can't dump Lissa right now. She won't be able to take it. Just wait until the timing is better if you want to dump her because you feel bad about cheating."

His eyebrows scrunch together in a sort of cute way.

I can see why girls constantly drop their pants for him.

"What about us? What if I want to be with you instead?"

I try not to let that sentence get to me, but fuck it, I can't help it; I wince. "Nick, we're just friends."

I pussy out instead of actually looking at his face, because I'm not prepared to take responsibility for what I've said. He doesn't respond—he doesn't move a fucking inch—and for a few moments I can't even hear him breathing. It's silent like it was earlier, except it's not because this time the air is different and it isn't comfort that I feel: it's something colder. It's the kind of silence where time slows down in the worst way possible, and I'm dying for him to say something, anything, to make it end because it feels like the atmosphere is trying to crush me—kill me-I need something to cut the silience before it strangles me.

_Say something_.

"_What_?"

He might as well have stabbed me. My eyes are facing the floor. "We're just friends."

And I'm afraid of what he's going to do.

Nick pulls me up by my arms and turns me up so I can face him and I try to squirrel away and look in the other direction, but he won't have it as he draws me nearer to him so his face is only a few inches away from mine. "Max, what are you trying to say here?"

Deceptively calm, but I can see the tightness of his jaw and his hands are curled around my forearms so tightly I'm sure I'll lose circulation soon; my fingertips are already tingling. I swallow. "Nick, we're friends."

"Max," I can feel his hot breath on my face. In other situations I'd be melting into him at this proximity and maybe I would kiss him, but this is different: this is animalistic, like he's going to kill me. I try to look away, but he grabs my two arms with one hand, then uses the others to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. "Max, friends don't kiss each other and tell each other such personal things and friends don't have sex."

I squirm against him. "Yeah they do. Lesbians, gay guy friendships..."

He shakes me hard. "Will you cut out all that bullshit? Seriously Max, I don't see what your fucking problem is."

He pushes me forcefully back onto the couch and he has me pinned down within a third of a second. I sigh calmly on the outside, but on the inside I am panicking and nervous because I'm not sure how to sat this. "Look, it's like friends with benefits. I can't handle a boyfriend right now."

_Or ever again_, I forget to tag onto the end of that sentence. _I can't handle a boyfriend right now or ever again_.

"Just let me figure things out. And you can't break up with Lissa. Not now."

**Page Break**

"Hey."

JJ and I swivel around in our chairs so quickly that our knees slam into each other's. JJ regains her composition the fastest. "Hey Mark. Guys."

Mark is JJ's second oldest brother. The oldest one, Ryan, is in his third year of college while Mark just finished his senior year of high school; he's the one throwing the party tonight. Mark and JJ look vaguely similar, although JJ is blonde and he's a brunette. A group of maybe ten or eleven of his friends surround him.

Mark is hot, although it totally grosses out JJ whenever I bring it up; it's still true. He has slightly darker green eyes than JJ, and he's muscular from playing football and swimming. He's decently tall; maybe 6'2'', and he always has that 'I just rolled out of bed' look. Sexy.

Of course, it's not like I'd ever go out with him or anything: I've known him for _way_ too long and I saw him eat a booger once when we were younger; besides he's like the older brother I never had.

Well actually, I kind of did have an older brother, once.

It was before my dad and mom decided to work together on a child.

Dad isn't exactly a prime role model, considering that he knocked his girlfriend up when they were 20. They had been high school sweethearts who had gone off the college together and had practically planned their entire lives as a unit and they were going to grow up and have exactly 3.6 children and then they would live happily ever after.

The child part just came a little early. And happily ever after? As if.

Mary, dad's girlfriend, dropped out of college and had the baby: a perfect little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. They named him Ari. From what Jeb always told me, Ari was his pride and joy. Jeb worked extra fucking hard to graduate while working a part time job in order to support his small family.

Jeb and Mary got married when Ari was three years old. Dad always used to show me pictures of the day that they got married. It hadn't been a big wedding; she wore her mother's dress and he wore his old tux from prom. Only a few of their friends and family had been invited and it they had a small outdoor ceremony with plastic chairs.

Ari and Mary died in a three-car collision when Ari was seven years old. Jeb was so depressed that he threw himself into his work so that he would have time to think about it.

He still thought about it.

It wasn't until he was about 38 years old that he wanted a child again. He had been working with my mom on a project regarding avian research and avian DNA. They decided to create me.

And the rest is history.

Except, Jeb always told me stories of his little boy Ari who never got to grow up, and I always wonder what it would've been like to meet him if he hadn't died. To have a big brother.

And if he hadn't died, I probably wouldn't exist.

_JJ's lucky she wasn't the rebound child_.

**Page Break**

_Ari Christopher Batchelder  
>1980-1987<em>

_Beloved son to Jeb and Mary Batchelder  
>May his young soul rest in peace<em>

I stand at the tombstone, looking down at the carefully carved words on the grave stone. It's one of those days that make you feel depressed. Mom, Ella and I come to visit the dead people every two months or so to remind ourselves that they existed too and we need to remember them.

I never knew the kid, but I'm always compelled to visit his grave anyway. I stand here and imagine who Ari was; I've seen pictures of him and everything, but I wonder what he was like. If his life hadn't been cut short, would he have become a perfectionist like me? Would he have had a lot of friends in school and would he have become popular? Or would he have been reserved and quiet and just have skated through his high school life unscathed? Would he have grown up to be a scientist like Dad?

I wonder if Ari would have been like me, except more masculine. Would Ari have made the same mistakes I have? Would he be something worth being proud of? Would he fuck up as badly as I did, or maybe even worse? Or would he be an angel?

Jeb used to tell me stories about Ari and how Ari used to follow him around in the labs at work whenever his mother couldn't take care of him. He said it would light up his day; Dad tried to take me to the lab with him once, and the smell of antiseptic and all the people in white coats made me feel so sick to my stomach that I cried until he drove me home and asked him to never take me back.

In fact, Jeb always wanted me to try the things that Ari used to do, like play baseball (I hated it with a passion) or he insisted that I try to play guitar (which is when I realized that I have the musical talent of a deaf/blind bear). It's as if Jeb wanted me to be like Ari so he wouldn't feel the loss of his son so painfully.

But I learned something from my dad other than street fighting and basic cooking; no, he taught me something much more important.

He taught me that you can always replace the people you lose.

And that is possibly the most important thing I've ever learned.

Because if Dad could do it, then everyone else could, too.

I place down the daisies on the grave and turn away without a second glance. I walk across the cemetery, carefully avoiding the tombstones as I walk directly between the rows of graves: dead body after dead body. Names of people who have long gone and they aren't coming back anytime soon.

I reach Mom and Ella at the other side of the graveyard. They're both staring at the tombstone with grim expressions, and Mom is crying slightly, but trying desperately to hide it.

I let my eyes reach the letters engraved on the stone, and I try not to wince because even though I know who it is, I never get used to looking at it.

_Jeremy Anthony Tucker  
>1962 -1997<em>

_Beloved father and Husband_

Mom cries for her dead husband.

**Page Break**

"You and your sister had different fathers. How did that affect you growing up?"

I look up at the ceiling in Dr. Wyatt's office. I put my hands together and rest them over my stomach.

Mom met Jeremy a short while after she became pregnant with me—If you have ever seen "The Back-Up Plan" (the movie with J-Lo and the hot guy from _Hawaii Five-O_) you can relate the situation to that—and they fell in love, blah blah blah blah. They got married a few months after Mom popped me out, and then Mom popped out Ella almost exactly nine months after they were wed. Quelle coinkydink.

The thing with Jeb is that he tried to bring Ella with us sometimes, and tried to make her feel like she fit in and we were all related; he loved Ella, too. He tried to make her feel loved.

Jeremy was the opposite. I was only four when Jeremy died in a sudden heart attack; according to Mom he had a family history of heart disease. He treated me like I never existed, or that I was some sort of nuisance that was trying to ruin his perfect little family; I didn't fit. He was always looking for me to leave; whenever he was doing something with Ella, like reading her a book, I wasn't allowed to be anywhere near them. He hid it in front of Mom pretty fucking well too, because he was always nice to me when Mom was there.

But when he was gone, it was as if he was just waiting for me to get the message and leave.

When Ella and I were younger we shared a bedroom—not because of a lack of space, but because Ella used to be afraid to sleep alone. Sometimes when she got scared at night she was slip into my bed beside me, holding onto her favourite stuffed animal: Puddles the puppy. Jeremy used to come into the room and kiss Ella goodnight and tell her how much he loved her.

He always glared at me before he left.

So I shrug indifferently, and tell Dr. Wyatt, "I don't know. Her dad was dead by the time I was four years old anyways."

But living with someone who pretty much hates you for four years is a lot easier said than done.

I hardly forgive, and I _never_ forget.

**Page Break**

"What's up, Nudge?"

She looks up from the television and smiles. "Just hanging around. Ella said she would be home at six o'clock but she's late, so I decided that I would just watch some TV until she got back. I mean, I don't mean to intrude or anything, because I know it's kind of creepy since I'm practically living at your house. It' just that I don't like being at home because it's just so _lonely_ there and my parents are gone and it's just so much nicer to be here—"

"It's okay Nudge, I get it. And we all love you here, so it's not a problem. At all," I cut her off, but I mean every word.

Because Nudge's house used to be my sanctuary when I was younger. From the time I met Nudge when I was three years old; I clung onto her and spent all the time I could at her house. It was an escape from the family that I didn't really belong to; the step-father who never would think of me as perfect, no matter how hard I tried to make myself good enough, no matter how hard I had tried.

Because even perfect people can't always be perfect.

**Page Break**

I sit perfectly still in my seat while Dr. Wyatt gives me a sceptical look, as if I'm lying or something—which I guess I _am_ doing, but I still wish she wouldn't look at me that way.

"So could you compare what he was like compared to your father? What were the differences in your relationships with both of them?"

_Jeremy made me feel like shit all the time, and Dad made me feel like I was worth something._

Simple. That was it.

I could pinpoint all their different mannerisms and appearances and stuff, but that was the main point: Jeremy made me feel like shit.

I hated him with such a burning passion that was probably unhealthy for someone at such a young age. I remember I would go out of my way to avoid any contact with him because being around him made my blood boil; he made me want to die.

And he thought her could get away with treating me like total shit, as if it was okay because I "ruined his family". If he caught me doing something slightly wrong, he would act like I'd murdered someone while Ella did much worse things and got away with them. Once he hit me across the face because I used a pen to draw instead of a pencil while Ella was scribling on the walls in balck Sharpie. My face was bruised for over a week; he told Mom that I'd run into the dining table. He threatened to hit me again if I tried to rat him out.

So when Mom told Ella and me that Jeremy had died, I didn't cry. Ella bawled her eyes out for her lost dad, but I was just kind of relieved. Grateful, actually.

Mom never understood why I didn't cry at his funeral.

"I was young, Doc. I don't remember very much about him."

**Page Break**

"You are such a selfish bitch, you know that?"

Ella is screaming at me while wearing her fiercest glare. I try not to laugh, because I know she's being as serious as she can be, but she looks ridiculous with her hair half pinned up in lopsided ponytail and only the left half of her hair curled.

We were supposed to go for dinner with some of her family on her Dad's side, but I passed up at the last second and told Mom I wasn't feeling too good—which is actually kind of true since I think I ate a bad burrito today in the cafeteria and I might throw up.

"Okay. I'm a selfish bitch: duly noted. I'm still not going."

Ella is fuming in the doorway as she tries not to run over and strangle me. "Wow Max, this is so fucking ridiculous. You think you can get away with anything you want, don't you? Because I always come to visit _your_ dad's family when they are around, but you can't do the same for me? I don't even know how you can be so self-centred."

"Ella, stop yelling at your sister."

Mom to the rescue, as always. I lie back down on my bed and close my eyes. I have such a headache. I wish I could get noise cancelling headphones so that I wouldn't have to hear the conversation going on between Ella and Mom, but then even if I did have headphones, I would take them off to eavesdrop.

I'm a terrible daughter/sister, but whatever. If they're talking about me, I deserve to hear it, right?

Right.

"Mom, it's unfair. She gets away with stuff like this all the time."

Mom sighs. "Ella, you don't understand. Max has problems with her father because he's always gone and—"

"Max? At least she has a father! I don't have one anymore and I never will again because he's out of the picture too! I don't know how you can be so lenient on her, but not me. You know what it's like for me? I never knew him Mom! It's like you only care about her. Yeah Max's dad is gone, but that'd different!"

_You__'re__ right Ella, that's different_. I think to myself. _Your dad didn't have a choice on leaving; mine did. And your dad loved you so much and I was a replacement._

**Page Break**

JJ smiles as Mark and his friends. "So what are you guys going to do?"

Mark shrugs. "Organize the alcohol somewhat, get out the keg, and hide Mom's favourite vases. Typical stuff."

"Sure you aren't going to do each other's hair and nails?" She jokes mockingly.

Mark's best friend Alex rolls his eyes. "Yeah, of course we are. You forgot about the part where we assess each other's outfits to make sure our butts don't look too big in our jeans."

His voice is practically oozing with sarcasm. JJ laughs good-heartedly before tugging on my hand to go upstairs. "We'll see you guys later. Come on Max, we're actually going to do each other's nails and hair."

Oh joy.

**Page Break**

A quacking duck jolts me out of my sleep.

I sit up suddenly and have one of those little freak attacks I get whenever I wake up in a strange place where I look around for something familiar to shake off my disorientation.

_The __grandfather __clock, I fell asleep on the floor in the living room_.

As for the quacking, I pull my phone out of my pocket and answer drowsily. "Hello?"

"Max, can you come over? Like, right now?"

Jeff's muffled voice comes through the receiver and I try to understand what he's asking through my sleepy haze. See, with Jeff, _Can you come over?_ Has several possible meanings:

He's bored and wants someone to hang out with. He has a problem with being alone for too long.

He's having a party or a kick-back and is inviting me to join the group

He wants to have sex

It's hard to decide which one her wants.

"Um, I guess so. What's the occasion?"

He pauses for a second before he answers. "I just need you to come over _right_ now."

That probably means he wants sex.

He doesn't want sex.

When he opens the front door to his house the first thing I notice are the red, puffy eyes. And then I see the dried-tear stains on his cheeks. His hair is dishevelled and his t-shirt has distinct wet spots on it and I just want to know _why_. Because I don't think I've ever really seen Jeff frown; he's always the one cracking jokes and keeping the mood light.

"Mommy's been diagnosed with breast cancer."

I don't know what I'm doing until I'm actually doing it, and my arms are wrapped around Jeff in a hug and I can feel him shaking with sobs. Because I know how much Jeff loves his mom, and I can't imagine her with cancer because I just _can't_. Mrs. Griffiths is possibly the sweetest person on the planet; she can make anyone smile in an instant and she's just always so happy and positive and nice that I can't imagine her being sick. Good people don't get cancer, they just don't. They shouldn't.

I let Jeff walk me into his bedroom and let him shut the door behind us. And in the silence I just hold onto him while he cries, I hold his hand while he soaks my shirt with his tears and for the first time in a long time I'm afraid that I'm going to cry and actually mean it.

Except the feeling is gone and replaced with nothing and I don't feel anything at all.

And when Jeff finally stops crying, I don't dare to move. I just sit there and hold his hand while he steadies his breathing and I marvel about how I was the first person he called when he found out; it makes me feel sick, because I don't deserve to be the first person on his call list. Not at all.

I try not to hyperventilate, but I still can't manage to breathe properly, so I snap my fingers quietly.

Jeff starts to do it too.

So we sit there like the awful messes we are until it's four in the morning and Jeff assures me that he's done crying for now. We get off the floor and he walks me downstairs in silence. I slip on my shoes and exit the house, but he grabs onto my wrist before I can get to the car and whispers:

"Thank you."

I give his hand a tight squeeze. _You're welcome._

**Page Break**

"So what I want to know, Max," Dr. Wyatt asks slowly, "Is how you kept up with all the secret relationships without getting caught."

I can't help it; I smile cheekily. "I'm just too good."

"No one ever caught on?" She doesn't believe me.

I shrug. "Not really."

But there were some close calls.

**Page Break**

"Hey! Give it back Lissa!"

I'm chasing her with all I've got because there's no way in hell she can read my texts. Or look at my call log.

"Why, are you hiding something?" She giggles as she continues to run with it.

_Why yes, yes I am._ I can't let her read those damn text messages because then she'll see all the stuff I've been sending to Nick, and then all the stuff I've been sending to Jeff, and _Oh my god, just give the fucking phone back, Lissa._

"What? Have you been sexting? Are the messages dirty?" Lisssa laughs whole-heartedly, while my mind is having a panic attack.

So I tackle her. Not exactly the most socially acceptable solution, but definitely effective. My phone is back in my hands within seconds. "Sorry."

I'm waiting for her to start cussing me out, but she just smiles. "You've been talking to some guy on there, haven't you?"

_Uh, actually two_. I blush. "No."

But she catches on to my fire red cheeks and figures out I'm lying like a mother fucker. "Who is it?"

_Haha, um awks. It's your boyfriend...surprise! And not only your boyfriend, but also __his__ best friend. Who would've known?_

Yeah, like hell I would say _that._ So I lie like a fucking rug. "Um, just some guy."

Lissa's eyes widen like a child's when you give them a cupcake and she almost squeals in delight. "OMG, who is it? Tell me _everything_! Do you guys have a thing, or are you like really close, or are you into his but he's not into you or vice versa or is it just, like, complicated?"

Oh, god. What have I gotten myself into? "It's complicated, but I don't want to jinx it so I'm not talking about it yet. I'll tell you when things work out."

The bell rings, and for once I'm thankful that I have to go to Biology class.

After school, I jump Jeff. Right away. "Give me your phone."

He takes this well. "Why hello Max, yes I am doing well today. It's nice to see you, too. Now may I ask why?"

I roll my eyes. "We need code names on our phones because Lissa almost went through all my texts and she would have realized that we're a little more than friendly."

"I don't see how that would be a problem," he replies without missing a beat. His eyes grow sad. "Why can't we tell anyone? Why do we have to keep it all a secret? I'm sick of it. What's so wrong with letting Lissa know?"

Damn. I weasel my way out of it. "Because then Lissa will want to talk about it with me and I don't want to have to talk about it with her."

He looks like he's going to argue for a few moments before his face falls and I know he's going to let it go. "Okay. What am I supposed to call you?"

I didn't really think that through. "I don't know; nothing too obvious."

"How about Stacy?"

"Nah, there's actually a girl named Stacy at our school."

It's quiet as he thinks. "Madeline Reynolds. There's no one with that name at school and it's the same initials as you, so I'll remember it."

I hesitate, but I eventually nod. "Yeah, that works. Change it up."

He pulls out his phone and taps away at the keyboard. "So what's my code name?"

Hmm, I think it out. Maybe I'd do what he did and switch the name so it would have the same initials, like James Gunnel or something, but then it hits me. I pull my phone out and go to my contacts. I find Jeff's name, and hit "edit"_."_

"What is it?" He nosily peeks over my shoulders.

I smile as I show him:

Iggy

"Just like Angel calls you," I smile softly as I nudge him with my elbow.

For a second he doesn't react, but then a grin stretches out across his face. "I approve."

**Page Break**

"So what look are you going for tonight? Casual, sexy, super-slut?"

I hit JJ on the arm, but I try not to smudge the drying nail polish on my fingernails. God forbid, she would make me redo them. Again. "I will never, _ever_ dress in order to look like a 'super slut'. _Never_."

"Dylan would like it," she deadpans, keeping a straight face until she cracks and bursts out laughing.

But it's not funny, because she's pretty much calling me a slut. "Shut up, JJ."

She sobers up instantly. "Whoa Max, I was joking. You need to loosen up a bit; don't take everything so seriously."

But I don't loosen up; I'm focused and serious, that's all. Some people are just focused—that's what they do. And there is nothing wrong with that. It's just the way I am. "Well it wasn't funny."

JJ opens her mouth to respond, but shuts it just as quickly and turns away. "Yeah, whatever."

**Page Break**

We're alone in the house, so we don't need to worry about hiding from Nudge. Or being quiet.

Nick walks me down the stairs calmly, but the second we're in his bedroom, he's all over me. His hands trail down my body as his mouth practically attacks mine while he moves us closer and closer to the bed.

We're rough with each other, pushing and pulling and grabbing a biting, he shoves me down onto the bed with force before violently undoing the button and zipper on my jeans and forcing them off while simultaneously kissing and nipping at my neck. My fingers fumble with his belt buckle, but eventually he gets to taking off his jeans, and his mouth is on mine again. My fingernails dig into his arms as I reel him in closer, undoing the buttons on his shirt with little care, as he pulls at my t-shirt.

And I'm thinking, that I'm actually here for this, to experience this with him and it's amazing—

Then I zone out. Completely. I'm far, far away from the darkness of Nick's bedroom, but I don't know where I am. I feel lost.

Maybe this is what it's like to be dead.

When I zone back in, he's breathing heavily and his arms are around my body. I shift to the side so that there's almost a foot of space between us, because the human closeness was a little too much for me. I wrap the dark bed sheets tighter around my body, and I just stare at the ceiling. Five, ten, fifteen minutes go by before the silence breaks.

"Lissa almost read my text messages today. We need some sort of code names for when we text and stuff."

Nick turns his head to face me, a smirk resting on his lips. "Code names? Like James Bond? I'll be double-oh-sixty-nine and you can be Pussy Galore." He rolls so his body is half over mine and he smiles. "I'd say that's pretty accurate."

He leans in to kiss me, but I won't have it. "I'm not joking."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Do we need to talk about this right now?"

I glare at him before I get out of the bed and start to put my clothes back on. After I'm done that (my underwear was magically on the other side of the room—how the fuck did it get there?) I head to the bathroom to fix me undoubtedly fucked up hair.

"Holy _fuck!_"

Because my neck looks like a disaster. Multiple hickies, and bite marks all over.

Nick sends me a smug look. "Problem Max?"

But I'm freaking out on the inside, because I'm pretty sure no amount of cover-up could hide _that_. I rub my skin furiously hoping for the marks to disappear. They don't.

"For fuck's sake, learn to control your fucking fangs, Nick!"

I furiously press down on my hair to see if it will cover up the damn marks on my neck, but they still show. Nick is sliding his jeans on with an amused smirk on his face as he watches me fret over my neck.

Asshole.

He slides into the washroom next to me and inspects the damage. He kisses the biggest hickey. "Maybe I can kiss them all better?"

"Yeah, whatever. _Fangs__.__"_

I brush past him and flop down on his bed. After half a second, a light bulb pops up over my head. "Fang!"

Nick gives me this look as if I've completely lost my mind. Which I haven't. Yet. He raises an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to be?"

I pull my phone from my pocket and edit his contact information. "Your new nickname, _Fang_."

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. "That sounds like a dog name."

"Then it suits you just fine, doesn't it?" I retort snidely, but I smile to let him know that I'm not being serious.

Nick winds his arms around my body and draws me into him. He looks half-thoughtful before he answers. "Your name can be 'Ryder'. It sounds sort of like your last name, and it resembles the phrase 'Ride her'. I think that suits _you_."

My jaw drops open in disgust as I push him away. "Sexist, much? And is that even a real name?"

"Yeah, Snooki's best friend is named Ryder—"

"Jersey Shore? Really?"

If he wasn't an emotionless brick, I swear he would be blushing. "Nudge asks me to watch it with her sometimes when she's lonely."

I snort. "You're probably some sort of Jersey Shore fanatic. I bet you tune in to watch every 'Jersday'."

"Whatever, _Ryder._"

**Page Break**

"You are one manipulative girl, aren't you?" Dr. Wyatt doesn't look angry or judgemental—if anything, she looks impressed.

I kick my feet up onto the glass coffee table as I slouch back into the red velvet couch. "You know it."

She kicks her feet up as well. "You know, if my other patients were half as smart as you, my job wouldn't be nearly as easy. You're very difficult."

"It's a gift really," I say without skipping a beat. "Not everyone can be this talented."

She just stares at me for a few minutes, and I find it kind of unnerving: it's as if she's staring right through me, or something.

_Yeah, right. As if._

She tilts her head up towards me "So how did you cope?"

I pretend that I don't understand what she means, but I do. Oh, I do. I know it inside and out. I used to have to work my ass off trying to cover up for it and I used to slave over every detail. I used to try to so hard to hide it because I just couldn't handle it all but I couldn't let anyone know that because...I just had to be perfect. And it's ridiculous the measures I went to hide it, but the harder I tried to hide it, the more it showed; the harder it got to cover up. I went out of my way and out of my mind trying to make sure no one ever saw, no one ever found out—

_So how did you cope?_

_I didn't. I couldn't._

**Page Break**

12:31 AM

I can't stop pacing my bedroom. One, two, three, four, five, and turn. One, two, three, four, five, and turn. Repeat.

I'm exhausted, and all I really want is to sleep, but at the same time I'm far too wired to go to bed, to lie there. My calves are burning; I've been pacing for over an hour but I can't let myself rest—one, two, three, four, five, and turn. Repeat.

I'm snapping my fingers to keep in time with my footsteps as a get into the rhythm. I'm immersed in this pattern; I love it—so constant, so stable. I need it, I want it.

Then I see it. I try to pass it off as nothing—_Don't look Max—_but it itches at the back of my brain until the pain is unbearable and I look again. I shouldn't have looked again, I can't ignore it now; once you notice something, you can't just _un-notice_ it. I push all of my willpower to the front of my mind—_We aren't doing this again, Maximum._

But within seconds I am in front of the bookshelf, hastily grabbing all the books and placing them on the floor, one by one until the shelf is completely cleared. I stare at the pile before me as I try to decide how to organize the books the right way.

In alphabetical order by author's last name, then first name, then series title (if applies), then book title; that's the way it's supposed to be, I'm certain of it. So I pick up the books one by one and meticulously place them onto the shelf in the right order until it is perfect.

Except it's not.

So I take all the books down again and reorganize them by the colour of the spine in order of the spectrum: white, pink, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, brown, black. One by one I return the books to the shelf in the right order.

Except it's still not good enough.

I redo the task over and over in any way I can think possible: alphabetical order by title, descending height (tallest on the left to smallest on the right), book width, most important to least important, favourite to least favourite.

But none of those are correct.

I pull the books off the shelves again and place them back in alphabetical order by author's last name, then first name, then series title (if applies), then book title; that's the way it's supposed to be, I'm certain of it.

2:45 AM

_I can finally sleep_.

I don't go to sleep, because I then notice that all the picture frames hanging on the walls are crooked and I fix them all until their tops are all exactly parallel to the floor and ceiling, the way they should be.

3:02 AM

As I'm rolling into bed, I realize that my bed sheets don't quite match the wall colour in my room, so I pull them off the bed and replace them with new ones. Except, the new ones don't quite match either and it's not acceptable, so I pull them back off and get another new set. And then another. And then another one, which actually matches.

3:38 AM

I'm freezing off my ass, so I go and into my closet to get a hoodie, but then see the total state or disorder my clothes are in, and I _know_ I won't be able to sleep again until it's neat. I reorganize all my clothes by type of clothing item, then by colour in each item; white, pink, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, brown, black. The _right_ way.

4:23 AM

I spot a cobweb in the top left corner of my bedroom, so I clean it up because it's disgusting. Then I spot another one in the top right corner.

4:47

After I put away the cleaning supplies I spot the pile of clean laundry my mom left in my room before I went to bed and I'm so tired I skip it and go straight to bed.

4:49 AM

Fuck it, I can't sleep until it's done.

I carefully unfold each clothing item before refolding it with perfectly folds and straight lines. Then the ones that aren't perfect get redone.

5:21 AM

I walk with the clean pile, and I'm ready to place them in their respective drawers, but all the other clothes in the drawers are crumpled and poorly folded and I can't stand it.

I pull everything out and fold it right; I iron out the crumpled clothes and then fold them, unfold them, and fold them again until it's suitable because if you can't do something right, you can't do it at all. Iron, fold, flip, fold, crease. Place back in drawer. Repeat.

_Once all the clothes are back in the drawers, I can go to bed. Focus Max._

6:13 AM

I tuck the last t-shirt away, and I'm almost in my bed when I see the chipped paint on the wall. Fucking chipped paint on the wall.

I stare at it, and I will it to go away but it's still there and I can't fix it, I can't fix it, I can't fix it.

And I know that I won't be able to ignore it. _Go away_.

It's still there.

7:28 AM

Mom walks into my room. I'm pacing—one, two, three, four, five, and turn. Repeat—while snapping my fingers at the speed of light while I try to breathe.

_I can't fix it, now._

_I have to wait._

_I always have to wait._

**Whew, that took me a while.**

**PLEASE REVIEW DARLINGS!**

**Question of the day: What weird habits do you have as a reader/writer?**

**I personally reread books twenty times, but each time I read it I get a new message/meaning behind the novel that I never got before. As a writer, I ask create the "literacy cirle" questions that would go along with my story (in my head)—you know those annoying questions at the end of novels that teachers make us read—because I'm just **_**that**_** lame.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I am deeply apologetic for long it took me to finish this.**

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to PercyJacksonPossessed for repetitively sending me PMs telling me to update. I think she sent like, 5. It was very motivational.**

**Highlight of the day: Today my fourteen year old (male) cousin started calling me fat, ugly, stupid, a hoe, and a slut. After a while, I told him that someday someone was going to back-hand him so hard that it would kill 50 of his brain cells. He continued to call me a "Twat". I back hand slapped him so hard he fell over AND got a black eye. He was respectful to me for the rest of the day. K A R M A**

_Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!_

"Uhhhhhhh..."

"What the _fuck_ is that?"

I lazily stick my tongue out at Fang, before rolling over to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Maxie! What are you doing right now?"

Oh fuck. Lissa.

Nick leans closer to me, slowly tugging at the bed sheet that covers my naked body. "Who's calling?"

I instantly glare at him, but it's too late and the damage has been done. Lissa's voice is quiet. "Why are you with Nick right now? I hear his voice."

"We're on our way to the mall," I lie quickly, "We're going Christmas shopping."

I can practically feel Lissa thinking this over in her head. "Why didn't you guys invite me?"

Think fast, think fast... "We didn't want to tell you, but we're going to try to buy stuff for you. We are going together so we can consult each other on what you would like or not. We wanted to keep it a secret and I'm so stupid, I just told you."

Lissa isn't as dumb as she looks, but she certainly in not smart either. She buys it. "Oh, okay. I'm glad you two are getting along. I mean, I used to be worried that you guys were _thisclose_ to hate fucking or something."

I freeze up like a deer caught in headlights for a few seconds until I regain my composure and laugh nervously. "Really? That's funny. Well, we've got to go now, but I'll call you later and we'll talk."

For a second it's quiet and I know she's nodding with her head against the phone. She catches on eventually. "Oh, um yeah. Later."

The phone goes silent and I hang up, sighing in relief. That was a close one. Fang leans over and kisses my temple then trails down and across my jaw line while his hands move over my body and slipping under the bed sheet.

"Round two," he chuckles warmly against my skin.

I roll my eyes and push him off of me. "Nope. We need to go to the mall."

He does a double take. "Wait, you were serious about that?"

I slide on my clothes and run my fingers through my mangled hair. "We have to go now that I've told her."

"Um, why?"

I scowl at his stupidity. "Because knowing Lissa, she would go to the mall and look for us. Come on, Fang."

He groans, but eventually pulls himself out of the bed and gets dressed. "Fine. I don't even like the mall."

"Trust me, I don't either."

Thankfully it's Sunday, and the mall is pretty empty. So far I haven't seen anyone I know here, which kind of kicks up a sense of relief in my chest. It's easier to breathe when I don't have to see familiar faces.

"So what exactly am I supposed to buy Lissa?"

We're standing inside Forever 21 looking at clothes. I pull a cute sweater off the clothing rack. "I don't know. What do you normally buy girls?"

Fang looks slightly uncomfortable—I can tell by the clenching of his jaw—as we move to another rack. "I don't want to buy her something like a necklace and then break up with her. What kind of gift do you give someone you're going to break up with?"

I keep a straight face as I say, "Sex."

We face each other, and I can't stop the grin that covers my face. Fang rolls his eyes. "I know most males would appreciate that sort of gift, but Lissa is a little pickier."

"Us women, making things so hard on you guys," I snort, placing a hideous t-shirt back into a stack. I turn back around, only to realize how little space there is between Fang and me; maybe six inches.

He tugs on my shirt sleeve, his fingers grazing my hand. "You're terrible to us."

"Just awful," I whisper, but now we're too close together and we're in public and I need to breathe but he's so close and he's taking up all the oxygen, and this is not okay—

"Are you finding everything okay or do you need some assistance?"

We jump back from each other and face the sales assistant. It takes me a moment to find my voice. "We are fine, thank you."

She rolls her eyes and walks away to fix I clothing display. I sigh in relief.

In the end I buy that cute sweater and a Starbucks card for Lissa, two pretty shirts for Ella (since I need to play nice with her) and I get Mom a _Hall and Oates_ collectors CD since I know she loves them.

Nick buys Lissa a necklace with a pretty silver pendant.

**Page Break**

"So like, how fucking crazy do you have to be to become a _psychiatrist_?"

Dr. Wyatt takes this well. "What exactly do you mean?"

I roll my eyes. "You listen to people's shitty lives and let them rant about their problems for a living. What has to snap in your brain to make you think, 'hmm, I want to do that for the rest of my life'?"

She fucking _shrugs_. "I find people interesting." She smiles before moving her hands to be about a foot apart. "And about _this_ crazy."

**Page Break**

"So where exactly are your mom and sister?"

Iggy raises a curious eyebrow and I shrug nonchalantly. "Ella is out with her friends and Mom is out at a farm; some horse is giving birth and may die."

"That's pretty serious stuff. What would the owner do if the horse were to die? What would happen to the little horsies? Who would play a female role model part in their lives?" Iggy clutches at his heart as if he's in pain. "The horror!"

His facial expression is so ridiculous that I burst into a fit of laughter, managing to choke on the apple I'm eating. I hack up pieces of half-chewed fruit and spit them into the garbage for the next minute.

Iggy is leaning against then counter because he can't stand up straight, he's laughing so hard. "Wow, choke much?"

I want to yell at him, but I still need to cough a few more times before I'm able to talk properly again. "Shut up. It's all your fault, Iggy."

"I know, I'm just too funny. I've sent many girls to their graves; they hear my jokes and they die of laughter, or like you, they choke on their food. If you were to look at female's gravestones in the cemetery, you would see several that say: 'Murdered by Jeff Griffith's hilarity'. True story."

He flashes me a winning grin and I roll my eyes. "You aren't _that_ funny."

"Says the girl who just hack-up half an apple," he mumbles under his breath and I bring my hand up to slap him, but he catches my wrist before my palm can reach his face. He reels me into him so suddenly I stumble and my face smashes into his chest. Iggy drops his voice to a whisper. "Should we take this upstairs?"

The afternoon had been going perfectly until he had said that, but I agree anyways leading him upstairs by the hand because I need to pass Gr.12 Biology. Whenever Iggy and I have done anything, it's always been at his house—his parents are gone to the country club more often than not so there would be no possibility of being caught—so I don't exactly know what to do with him. We reach the top of the stairs and head down the corridor; I hesitate as we get to my bedroom.

There are only five people who have ever been given permission to enter my bedroom: my mom, my dad, Ella, my grandmother on my dad's side, and JJ. And even JJ was a struggle. My room has always been my private space, the one place that I could call my own. A sanctuary from the rest of the world. That bedroom has seen numerous breakdowns and happy moments and epiphanies.

One time I invited Dylan over to my house for a study date in the tenth grade. We were alone in the house and so when I told him I was going to my room to get some textbooks and that it might take awhile to find them, he took it as some sort of come on and showed up in the doorway a minute later. I was actually getting textbooks from underneath my bed. I remember that night because I had kicked him out of the house right after trying to act all mad, but really I was having trouble breathing because I _hate_ it when people come into my bedroom. It freaks me out

I pass my bedroom, tugging on Iggy's hand as I lead him to the guest bedroom. The bed sheets are dark blue and the walls are sky blue and nothing about the room reminds me about my own. It's as if everything is separated from me.

_Good. Maybe I'll feel less guilty this time._

But after it's done, I don't.

**Page Break**

"Don't fucking touch my bag, you'll mess up everything inside it!"

JJ is startled by my sudden outburst, but she shouldn't be. We've been friends since forever and it's fucking ridiculous that she hasn't figured out that I hate it when people touch my stuff.

I grab it right out her hands and look in only to see that it's been terribly messed up and disorganized. The mascara is where the eyeliner should be and the blush is in the wrong compartment and my hair brush is facing the wrong direction and it's incredibly fucked up. I look in, but it's getting blurry because everything is out of order and it's just not _right_ and how could she let this happen?

I attempt to put everything back in its place, but I can't remember how exactly it's supposed to be organized and what's supposed to go in first without my checklist and I feel disoriented and panicked and I _just can't breathe_.

I start to snap my fingers while I shut my eyes and focus on taking slow, deep breaths.

When I get back to normal, JJ is standing there, half-terrified, half-furious. "_This_ is what I'm talking about, Max! You just fucking hyperventilated over someone touching your _bag_. That's not right. You need to get help and it's fucking ridiculous that you think it's okay for you to act like this—"

"Shut up, JJ!" I snap back at her, because I'm fucking sick of her messing in my personal life when I've made it clear that it's none of her goddamn business. "You've told me a thousand times, but it's my life and I can do whatever the hell I want with it!"

JJ slams down the hair brush she's holding and pushes me. "You know Max, it's so fucking hard to be your friend because you won't let anyone help you. Ever. Dylan came up to me yesterday because he was scared for you because you are so intense over everything that he doesn't know what to do. He's worried about you! And I don't know what to do either because you make everything so damn hard for everyone around you. It literally hurts me to watch you be like this."

I open my mouth to yell at her, but she doesn't give me a chance to speak.

"And I can't do this anymore! I can't pretend everything is fine and constantly cover it up for you because that's stressful and I can't handle it all the time and I don't even know what to do. It's like you're trying to kill yourself!"

I stare at her, frozen. She's not moving and I'm not moving but we're both breathing heavily and this is pointless.

She exhausts me.

I turn and leave the room.

**Page Break**

All the flowers in Fang's backyard are dying. He went to answer a phone call and I resorted to staring out the window. The paint-splattered picnic table has lost a lot of its colour, and from here it looks kind of worn down and gray. The tool shed's windows are cloudy and dirty, as if they haven't been cleaned in a long time. The barbecue looks like it has gone untouched for years and rust is developing on the lid. And the grass is short, but there are several yellow patches mixed in with the green, as if the two colours are battling for dominance of the lawn. The old weather vane on the shed is bent to the left. And the pool has leaves in it.

"I saved your life once. That's why I hated you."

I turn around and try not to look too surprised, although I hadn't realized that Fang had come back. I process what he said. "You did?"

He nods his head as he pulls me down onto his lap as he collapses into an armchair. "Once, when we were five. You had been playing outside with Nudge and you slipped and hit your head on the pool deck and then fell into the pool. Nudge had been younger than you and was colouring on the table outside and didn't notice, and Mom was deeply asleep—she had actually been depressed at the time and would hide out in her bedroom for hours, refusing to come out—assumed we would be fine. I was the first one to see that you had fallen in and you were bleeding a lot. So I jumped in and pulled you out—I had done swimming lessons for a couple years and was pretty decent—then I called 911. I got Nudge to help me out as we tried to bandage up your head a little before the ambulance came and scooped you off to the hospital."

Fang looked out the window for a few moments as if in a trance. I'm sitting there horrified because I remember about how I actually did almost drown in the pool, except I don't remember Fang being there. At all. I'd always thought Nudge had told her mom who had rushed me to the hospital.

Fang shook his head a little. "Max, I was so scared. I thought you were dead because you weren't breathing. I'd yelled at Mom until she was aggravated enough to get out of bed and drive Nudge and me to the hospital to see you. As it turns out, you had some weird blood type that only occurs when two other strange blood types get mixed together, and strangely, I was the only close person with the same type as you so I donated blood because I thought I would be able to make come back from the dead."

I always have a smart-aleck comment for everything, but now I'm rendered speechless. "I, uh, I—"

"But the worst part," he continues, "is that you never thanked me for it. I mean, you never paid attention to me in class and you never so much as looked at me and I'd saved your life. And throughout the years, I got so frustrated from never getting so much as a second glance from you. Eventually I stopped waiting for the thank you, and I just decided you weren't worth my time; so while everyone thought you were some sort of perfect godsend, I saw straight through you."

And the worst part is that it makes sense. Because I always remember Nudge, but for some reason I never realized that Fang was her brother. Or that he had saved my life. I turn so my face is only inches from his and I don't know how to feel because I was supposed to be perfect back then and even then I was fucking up badly. I'm a bad person.

"I'm so, so, so, so sorry," I whisper, but the strange part is that I actually mean it. And as I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly I'm terrified that I'm going to do something I haven't done in a long time and mean it: cry. I can feel my eyes prickling with tears, but before they can come I blink until the feeling stops. Because I don't deserve to cry.

"The thing that really pissed me off," He mumbles in my ear, "Is how you never gave me or any of the other guys a second glance, but as soon as the 'perfect' guy came around, you were all over him. What is so special about him? He's kind of the biggest tool I've ever seen. I mean, he annoyed me from the first day he talked to me. Literally. I used to be really into basketball, but when he came in grade 9 to try out for the team he pissed me off so badly that I went out for football instead."

I stifle a giggle. "Really? The rivalry has gone on that long? So cute."

His hand slithers to my stomach and he pokes me. "There's nothing cute about it. He's a jerk off."

"All that alpha-male mentality; adorable," I mutter in my 'baby' voice, and Fang grumbles in my ear.

He hooks his hands around my legs and pulls them around himself. "Either way, you're here with me now. And he's not."

And he kisses me.

**Page Break**

"Valencia told me that this isn't the first time you have ever seen a therapist."

I roll my eyes. "I know. I've seen, like, ten in the past month."

Dr. Wyatt shakes her head. "I mean prior to that. She says that you were sent for counselling as a very young child. Do you remember that?"

Sadly, I do. Mom's husband had thought I needed special help so they convinced Jeb that having me see a therapist might be a good idea. It started when I was two or three years old and ended when I was a few weeks from turning five. I remember the itchy feeling I would get every time I had to sit in my chair and talk to the therapist about how my days went, or sometimes they would make me draw pictures to depict how I felt.

I remember how I would be sitting and watching the television in the office while the therapist would speak to my mom about me as if I weren't there, or maybe they thought I couldn't understand what they were saying. Either way, I would listen on to their conversations. The therapists thought that my shyness and difficulty to communicate with my peers could be rooted from a minor case of Asperger syndrome and that's why I had trouble in social settings.

I was four years old when I decided that I needed to be perfect. It was a balance, a reason to fit in.

I was out of therapy less than two months later.

And now I'm back.

**Page Break**

Baseline pumping, rap music playing too loud, red plastic cups littering the ground. This is far from fun.

Another shot. I'm hoping that this party will be a little more bearable if I am completely inebriated, but I'm starting to get doubtful. Another shot. I'm hoping to get so drunk that I pass out so that I'll have an excuse to go home early. Another shot. My feet are fucking killing me: these high heels are ridiculous; why did I let Lissa talk me into this? Another shot. I grip the counter to keep myself from falling over. I reach to take another shot.

Lissa grabs the bottle away from my reach. "Hey, I'm cutting you off."

I groan in objection, but let her take it anyway. I lost count at six shots and that was a while ago. Lissa is scantily clad in a sequined green dress and she looks like the life of a party. She had forced me into a dress that left little to the imagination, ensuring me that I looked "cute", but I think I fall more along the lines of "slut". And if I'm a "cute slut" I'm only ever going to appeal to pedophiles.

_Well isn't that just fucking dandy._

She grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the kitchen and into the living room where Jeff and Nick are lounging on the couch. They clear a space in the center for me and Lissa to slide in. I instantly slouch over, but Iggy straightens me out. I was tempted to rest my head on his shoulder and it's way too hot in this house and someone needs to turn on the fucking air conditioning. I feel like I'm going to melt, and my face is probably bright red.

But if anyone notices, they don't mention it.

Lissa leans in closer to me and sends a glance towards the left side of the room. "Josh is totally checking you out."

I subtly look—well I hope it's subtle, but I'm so drunk that it's probably really obvious—and see that yes, he is looking over at me. I turn back to Lissa. "So?"

"So? He's hot and you're hot."

I can't wait to see where she's going with this. Because I'm pretty sure I'll find it hilarious. "And...?"

Lissa gives me a _I seriously can't believe you're making me spell this out for you_ look. "So? Go hook up with him. When was the last time you made out with someone? You guys would be cute together."

I feel Iggy stiffen up next to me, because the last time I'd made out with someone was that morning with Iggy, but it's not like I could tell her that. I play it cool. "Nah, Josh isn't really my type."

Lissa looks sceptical. "No one is your type. Every guy I ever try to set you up with isn't up to your standards. I'm beginning to wonder if something is up with you, or are you a lesbian, or are you hiding something from me, or—"

"Hey."

Josh towers over us because he's just that tall. He's a bulky guy—I'm pretty sure he was on the football team, but he works out a lot. His arm muscles are huge, so much so that they're kind of disproportionate to the rest of his body. I mean, he's not bad looking. He's actually kind of attractive. He's got good facial features and he's generally nice to be around, but he's not really my type; he's kind of stupid. Like, seriously stupid.

Besides, I don't think I need a third guy to juggle in my life.

But I pretend that I'm a pleasant person and I smile back at him. "Hi."

Josh looks all nervous for a few seconds before his "smooth" face comes back. "What's up?"

I shrug. "Nothing at all. You?"

"Same," he nods, and he tries to act like things are less awkward than they are. Because it's awkward. Lissa is nudging me on with her elbow, while Iggy and Fang are glaring at him, sending their best "go away" vibes. Josh shifts nervously on his feet. "Can I get you a drink?"

"She's already had way too much to drink," Nick replies coldly while Lissa simultaneously says, "She would love that."

Josh smiles and reaches out a hand, and I take it. He walks me over to the dining table and opens a beer for me. I mumble, "Thanks."

I take a careful sip while he pops the cap off his own. "So..."

Lissa is staring at us with keen interest and I'm sure Josh can feel Nick and Jeff's death glares boring into him. Josh pulls at his collar as if it's hot. "Um, why are they staring at me like that?"

In a way, it kind of annoys me, too. Could they act cool and not in a totally suspicious way? I roll my eyes and lie. "We're close friends, so they're really protective of me. They act like they're my older brothers or something."

Josh laughs a bit. "I guess I'm kind of like that with my younger sister. Whenever my friends are around her, they hit on her or sprout jokes about wheeling her; I hate it though."

I nod. "I used to try to keep my little sister from going out with assholes and stuff, but she hated listening to me so I decided that I would let her learn on her own. Eventually you have to let them go, I guess. It just sucks."

We're standing close together. I take a long sip of my beer and almost fall over in the process. My head is spinning and before I know it, Josh is catching me, saving me from a face plant on the floor. He holds my shoulders and steadies me, "Whoa, Max. Careful."

"I'm sorry," I slur, trying to find balance but I feel dizzy.

"It's okay," Josh smiles. "You're pretty, so you can get away with acting like a drunken idiot."

He's too close to me, and I can feel his breath on my face. I need space, I need to breathe, I need—

He kisses me. On the lips. Like, full out. At first I'm so startled that I almost punch him, but then I calm down and stay in a state of confusion. My eyes are wide open, and off to the left I see what I think is Lissa giving me a thumbs-up, but I'm not sure.

_I'm beginning to wonder if something is up with you, or are you a lesbian, or are you hiding something from me_, Lissa had said. So I might as well give her a show so she stops being so fucking suspicious of me.

So when Josh leans in to kiss me, I kiss him back. And then we're making out and it's nothing special and then his hands are slowly making their way down my back and then Iggy and Fang are pulling me away from Josh.

"She's really drunk. You shouldn't take advantage of her," Fang is deadly serious and his voice is hard.

It's kind of hypocritical of him considering that the first time we ever fucked happened when he got me really drunk. But I don't mention that.

Iggy looks angrier than I've ever seen him as he holds onto my arm protectively. "Have some fucking respect. She's hammered. She's not thinking clearly."

Josh backs off, his muscular arms raised in surrender as he leaves the room and heads into the kitchen.

Over the next few days, Lissa is bubbly over the possibility to Josh and I getting together, but I reassure her it won't happen and tell her he's a bad kisser (kind of true). But at least she's not suspicious anymore. I tell her I'm not ready to be in a full-out relationship.

That part is _really_ true.

**Page Break**

When I go downstairs, Mark has twice as many of his guy friends here than he did before. They're all eating chips and drinking beer while setting out the rest of the booze on the table. They break open a pack of plastic red cups.

I don't know what to do with myself, but I can't go back up to JJ's room; not right now. So I wander around the house which I know way too well.

The Joys' house consists of three floors—five if you include the basement and the attic—but each floor isn't that big. The first floor has the kitchen, dining room, living room, and entrance room. The second floor has the master bedroom and Ryan's room, although he's away for college. The third floor is where Mark and JJ's rooms are.

I walk the stairs slowly as I climb the flight between the first and second floor, turning onto the second floor. I'm half way down the hallway before I notice I'm not alone.

**Page Break**

"Thanks for helping me put up the Christmas tree and decorate it Max, you're just like, _sooooo_ nice. Like, I asked Nick to help me out, but he said decorating wasn't really his thing, and then I told him it would be fun, but then he was all like, 'no, it won't be' and 'I suck at decorating because I'm a stupid guy' and it was really frustrating for me, so that's why I'm so happy that you're helping out. I mean, I would still be happy that you were helping out even if Nick hadn't been a shit head and refused but yeah."

My ears are going to fall off soon. "It's no problem, Nudge. This is actually kind of fun."

I string some more tinsel onto the fake tree branches and slip on a candy cane.

Nudge beams at me. "Yeah, well my mom and dad and Nick and I used to decorate the tree together, but Mom and Dad have been gone a lot recently and they weren't going to be back home in time to put up the tree so I told them Nick and I would do it ourselves. But Mom promised that she would make the gingerbread cookies that she makes every year so I'm totally excited for that because they're always so yummy. Like, absolutely delicious. And Nick totally secretly loves baking them with her."

I raise an eyebrow at this. "Nick bakes?"

She giggles and nods. She's like a little girl. "Mmhmm. He likes to decorate the little gingerbread men all fancy and neat, even though he never would admit to it. Nick wears an apron and everything, like a _flowery_ apron—"

"Are you guys talking about me?"

Nick's jaw is slightly tight, and his face is tinged pink in embarrassment. I grin. "I just didn't realize that you were so into baking. Or flowery aprons. Don't worry though; Nudge was sure to enlighten me."

Fang puts his head in his hands before saying an annoyed tone, "Nudge...!"

She laughs and runs out of the room. "I'll see you guys later! Bye Max!"

I'm confused for a few seconds until I hear the front door slam. "Well that was..."

"Yeah, she's different," Fang smiles. "Thanks for helping her with the tree, by the way. It really does mean a lot to her."

I shrug. "Where are your parents at? I haven't seen them here...ever."

Fangs features grow darker for a few seconds before his poker face returns. "Ever since last year, they started going on business trips for their work, and they liked it so much that they just keep going to all the ones they can. They just fly from one place to another, and then they go on vacations in between them. They don't really come home. Maybe two days in every three months. I'm okay without them, but Nudge misses them a lot. She needs to be surrounded by people; being alone is too hard for her."

He steps closer to me, brushing the hair away from my neck and leaning in closer to me. It's horribly cliché and it kind of makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I let him do it anyway. Fang's nose knocks against mine, and he breathes in deeply. "Where were you yesterday? I thought we were going to hang out."

I had forgotten about that. I had been over at Iggy's house last night collecting the final physics paper he'd written for me. It was due today and Iggy left with his parents to go to Hawaii for Christmas holidays.

"I fell asleep in my room after school. I was tired. Thank God today was the last day of school before winter vacation."

He sees this as an acceptable answer. Good. "Wow, you _would_ fall asleep." Fang kisses my neck and trails up, across my jaw line. "You know, Lissa is going to a ski lodge with her family for the next two weeks." Kiss. "So we're going to have a lot of time by ourselves."

"Who said I want to spend time with you?" I retort.

He backs away for a second. "Why else would you be here?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Maybe I'm here on a mission of self-destruction where I hang out with best friend's boyfriend and try to act normal when deep inside I hate myself and have no self-esteem."

We stare at each other for a few seconds before we both crack up laughing.

**Page Break**

"Um, hi."

I hate this.

It's one of Mark's friends, I think. I've never seen him before, so he's probably not a close one. He stands there at about 5' 10'', his almost-white blond hair fixed into a faux hawk.

_Douche-y hair, bro._

His piercing blue eyes shoot through me. "Hey." He walks a little closer to me and I don't know what to do because social interactions like this have always been difficult for me. Is this normal? What am I supposed to do?

I clear my throat. "So..."

I feel awkward, and I'm pretty sure he feels awkward, too. I rub the palms of my hands against my denim shorts but they still feel clammy. Blondie laughs. "You're JJ's friend, right? Max?"

I wonder how he knows who I am, but I nod my head anyways. This guy probably goes to our school and he's probably just quiet. That's it; I just never have really noticed him. Still... "Do I know you?"

A smirk plays at his lips. "Oh, no. I'm from out of town; Mark and I met at summer camp a couple years ago and we stayed in touch."

My brow furrowed. "Then how do you know—"

"Mark explained that you and JJ were going to be at the house today as well, so not to freak out if we ran into you guys."

Oh, makes enough sense, right? Right. "Okay, I get it. So what are you doing up here on the second floor? I thought you guys were setting stuff up downstairs."

Blondie shrugged. "I had to go the bathroom, so Mark told me to use Ryan's because JJ was going to be in the upstairs one and the bottom floor one is dirty, apparently. I'm a little lost though; I've only been here once before."

"The bathroom isn't too far away," I respond a few seconds later. "I can show you to it."

He smiles a dazzling smile that would be perfect if he didn't have an overbite. I lead him down the hall to the third door on the left and open it up.

Ryan's room has light blue walls and dark blue decorations. He has a couple football posters for the Colts and the Bills—his two favourite teams—stuck up on the wall and his desk is littered with papers. His navy bed sheets are made and the room is vacuumed. Everything is in order; so much so the room hardly looks lived in except for the scattered sheets on the desk. His private bathroom is connected on the east side of the room.

"Here you go—" I start before Blondie pushes me into the room and shuts the door behind him. I narrow my eyes at him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

**Page Break**

"Come on, Max! Open one!"

Ella has chosen to act civil for Christmas—in fact, she's acting like we're BFFLs—so this morning has been exceptionally pleasant. I'm still in my pyjamas and my hair is a rat's nest—my mom doesn't look much better—but we're all here and none of us are fighting.

It's awfully perfect and perfectly awful. I hope Mom doesn't expect this peace between Ella and me to last.

But I smile anyway, because in some way I am happy. For now. Ella hands me a present wrapped in green paper with this huge, goofy grin on her face. It's like we're little again and I'm ten and she's nine and we're so excited for Christmas morning that we wake Mom up at seven in the morning.

I carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a CD for some band that I've heard of, but never really listened to. I raise an eyebrow at Ella. She shrugs. "I didn't want to get something you would already have."

"Well then, thanks," I laugh, because that is such an _Ella_ thing to do. I pull a present from underneath the tree and hand it over to Mom, who looks like she's about to cry.

Ella notices, too. "Are you okay, Mom?"

Mom nods slowly and she wipes her eyes. "Yeah, I'm just really happy; that's all."

I know she doesn't mean it to be a jab at Ella and me, but I still feel it anyway because I know it's hard for her in the way we fight and don't get along. The way I've changed has made her edgy and sad. I just don't know how to make things better; I can't go back to the way I was _before_.

But I pretend for today, for Mom. We smile together and hug and unwrap presents like we are some sort of happy, functional family.

Because everyone needs a lie to live off of every once in a while, so I'll give Mom this one. Merry Christmas, Mom.

I received a novel, a couple t-shirts, a gift card to American Eagle, a pair of earrings, and Ella's CD. I'm helping clean up all the wrapping paper when Mom calls out, "Hey Max, you have one more!"

It's square-shaped and wrapped in shiny gold paper, tied with a ribbon on the top. The square is about two inches by two inches, and about half an inch high. I inspect it tentatively, while Mom rolls her eyes. "Open it already, Max!"

So I do. It's a necklace: a delicate silver thing with a pretty pendant at the end. It's beautiful, but I don't know why anyone would buy this for me and it looks awfully familiar...

Shit.

I realize who it's from when the note falls out of the box and hits the floor and I don't know how I could be so _stupid_ to not recognize it before.

I pick the note up off the ground slowly, because I'm dreading having to read it. But I do.

_This is for you._

_Fang._

It's blunt. It's concise. It doesn't say anything terrible like 'I love you'.

It's worse.

Because with Fang, less is often more.

**Page Break**

His hand is pressed tightly over my mouth, muffling my screams. My arms are flailing, and I send a solid kick into his shin, but it hardly seems to affect him as he pushes me back towards the bed. I'm trying to breathe, but I'm having difficulty as he pins me to the bed with all of his weight and _oh my god, this is really fucking happening._

His hand is rough as he tugs down my shorts and it hurts my skin and I'm crying because I've heard about things like this happening to girls but I never expected this would happen to me because you never expect things to happen to you and it's terrifying and I can't breathe and I no one can hear me screaming because he's covering my fucking mouth and he's trying to rape me and why isn't anyone trying to stop this and I'm panicking and—

I hear the ruffled sound of his jeans hitting the ground and I jerk up to try and push him away and scream, but he presses back down onto me. "Shut the fuck up, bitch."

Why is this happening?

I don't know what I did to deserve this. I had tried my whole life to do whatever people wanted from me and I had worked so hard to be perfect and yet here I am. I've never felt so out of control and lost and scared in my life, and here I am in cold anticipation because I don't want this to happen.

This can't be happening. Perfect people don't get into situations like this. Perfect people get helped by other people. Perfect people don't get _raped_. They just don't.

My head is spinning and I feel like I want to die before this happens so I don't have to experience this. I wish I was another person, any other person in the world, just for this moment. I'm terrified and I can feel my heart exploding in my chest, like it's scared, too. And there's nothing I can do about it, nothing I can do to stop it.

But then I feel it. He shifts his weight ever so slightly and I know it's now or never. So I put all my force into pushing this 180 pound guy off of me, and in the split second he's shocked, I jump up and sprint for all I've got. I don't even stop to pull my shorts up from where they rest halfway down my thighs. I high tail it down the hall, and run up the stairs so fast I think my heart is going to stop. My face is covered in tears and I'm crying so hard that I'm choking on air. I open JJ's room door so quickly that it slams into the wall behind it but I don't care because I feel like I'm going to throw up.

JJ's eyes are as wide as dinner plates.

**Page Break**

The doorbell rings. A clear echo sounds through the house. I groan. "Ella, can you get the door?"

Ella, who is across the hall in her own bedroom, yells back. "Max, can you go fuck yourself?"

Sass; she would never have said that if Mom was home. Ever since Christmas vacation ended half a week ago, Ella has completely given up on this whole 'be nice to each other' thing we had going on.

Not like I give a shit.

I reluctantly peel myself off of the floor—I had lay down earlier and just not gotten up—and gingerly make my way down the stairs towards the front door. I take as annoyingly long as possible to undo the lock as I turn the handle and open the door because they interrupted me from...lying on the floor.

People can just be so inconsiderate.

Fang's there dressed in all black. He shifts from foot to foot; the only evidence that he's nervous or excited. His face is a blank canvas.

He probably ran over a cat with his car and doesn't know what to do.

"Hi," I say.

He meets my eyes. "Hi."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Why are you here right now—"

"I broke up with her."

He says this all excited like it is a good thing. My heart stops. "You _what_?"

"I broke up with her."

I clutch the doorframe as I take in what he's saying. "Why would you do that?"

His face doesn't show it, but his eyes swirl with confusion. "Because I'm sick of hiding and I hate having to kiss Lissa and pretend that I want her when I care about _you_. So I went and broke up with her."

My nose twitches in annoyance because he was supposed to tell me before he went to break up with her so I would be prepared for this. And just like that the blood drains from my face as it just occurs to me. "When did you break up with her?"

I must sound serious, because Fang's jaw tightens before he quickly answers, "About twenty minutes ago."

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"And the first place you come is here? For fuck's sake, don't you realize that she's going to come here now, crying? Did you think that through?"

"I didn't realize that—"

I bring my fingers to touch my temple. "You need to go. Now."

He sputters at the door for a few seconds before he glares at me. "I wish you would at least pretend to be happy."

I am speechless for a moment, which is weird because I always have something smart-aleck to say. I cough. "I am, it's just Lissa is probably already on her way, and she's probably crushed and I need to think of a way to comfort her. The timing sucks."

He nods, and turns to go. I don't know why I do, but I grab his forearm and pull him back and kiss his cheek. I know I shouldn't do it but for some reason I'm doing it anyway. My lips touch his soft cheek, and I don't pull away as fast I normally would, letting my lips linger there a little longer. I finally pull back. "You should go."

He doesn't say anything before he leaves.

Lissa pulls into my driveway five minutes later in her mom's black Lexus. Her eyes are puffy and her face is covered in tears. I pull her into the living room and she collapses, sobbing. I put my arms around her, although I've never really known how you're supposed to comfort someone.

Her head is on my shoulder, socking my t-shirt in tears. She gulps down air and makes awful choking noises. I rack my brain to remember what I did whenever JJ would break up with someone, but normally she would cry for twenty minutes and then eat ice cream, and then talk about how angry she was—Lissa's been crying for over an hour.

"I thought I was a good girlfriend, you know?" she blubbers. "I mean, I can't think of what I did wrong. I asked him, but he said that it wasn't something I did. What did I do, Max?"

"You were a good girlfriend," I reassure her, "You did nothing wrong."

"So I asked him if it was because of another girl, and he didn't respond," she snivels. "But he had this look in his eyes and I just _knew_ that there was another girl. I knew it. So I asked him again and he just nodded. He just fucking nodded."

I hand her a Kleenex and she blows her nose.

"I'm the best he's ever going to fucking have; he's going to realize that when he doesn't have me anymore because he's just an asshole. I should have listened to you from the start. I mean, I guess I should've picked up on it earlier; he's been acting weird for weeks. He's turned down opportunities to have sex, and he would squirm whenever I touched him. Why am I so stupid?"

I hug her closer, because I think she's about to burst into tears again. "It's not your fault he's an asshole."

She shakes her head. "I just don't get it: what kind of bitch steals another girl's boyfriend? Like, who would do that?"

_Me._ I think to myself. _I'm the kind of bitch who steals someone else's boyfriend._

Lissa lifts her head off of my shoulder. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying and her face is caked with dried tears. He mascara has run and she looks awful. She breathes out angrily. "I swear to God, if I ever find out which girl stole Nick from me, she's going to wish she was dead."

**Wow, that took me a while.**

**I'm so sorry I've taken forever with this update. I really am.**

**And to make things worse, it's not even that good.**

**Please review with lots of hate. or love. Either one works.**

**On a different note, I have a Fictionpress . net (without the spaces) account. I don't really have much on it, but sometimes I'll post random poetry I write in class or whenever. It isn't even that good, but it would totally make me happy if you would check it out. My username is the same as this one: kittiesrock90210. So yeah.**

**Question of the Day: Cats or Dogs? Ironically, I am a dog person (to go against my username).**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi!**

**So you can blame the lateness of this update on the following things:**

**School  
>Swim Team<br>MW3**

**Modern Warfare 3 is probably the main one.**

**Anyway, I had this idea to change all the "Page Break"s into the number of which part of the story it is, so I'll break it down for you:**

**One: the part with JJ  
>Two: the part with Fang, Iggy, and Lissa<br>Three: the part with Dr. Wyatt**

**So. Um. Yeah. I'm going through and changing it for all the other chapters (which is really annoying).**

**Highlight of the day: I took a five minute break from doing homework to upload this story...yeah, my day has sucked.**

* * *

><p><strong>Two<strong>

At lunch, it's just me and Lissa, and a couple of preppy girls from the cheer squad—I haven't taken the time to remember their names—sitting at the reading circle.

It feels weird without the guys here. Like the balance isn't right. Eating lunch with them every day had become routine.

I hate sudden changes.

"Well I'm not going to sit with that asshole," Lissa had explained earlier. "He can go fuck himself, for all I care."

And that was it.

But still, sitting amongst the cheerleaders and listening to them gabble about nonsensical things like shoes and the 20% off sale at Forever 21 was a little more than I am willing to put up with.

So I leave early mumbling some lame excuse and head to my locker.

"Guess what, Max!"

I turn to see...Dylan? This is unexpected. "I don't particularly like guessing games."

His blonde hair is a bit longer than usual but his blindingly white smile is still ever so present. He's one of those guys who actually looks good in the school uniform, as if he was _meant_ to wear it. He's the poster child for a school boy. He's doing that lean that guys do with their girlfriends in the hallway; his arm rests above my head and his face is close to mine as he backs me up against the lockers. It's like second nature to us, we used to stand like this between periods and he would give me a peck on the lips before heading off to class.

It feels creepily like before. I don't like it.

His lips slip into a slight grin. "I took some of your advice."

I raise an eyebrow. "I give out lots of good advice; you have to be more specific."

"Well, it wasn't good for someone of my social status to be single for such a long time—which is mostly your fault, by the way—so I took your advice and got a girlfriend."

His blue eyes connect with mine, and it's almost as if he's challenging me or something, but I have no idea why. I match my expression to his. "Really? You love her?"

"No," he answers without missing a beat, it's kind of unnerving. His eyes never leave mine and I want to turn away from him.

But I don't, because then he'll think he has an effect on me and I can't let him because nonsense. I cross my arms over my chest. "Why not?"

And the next thing he says really pisses me off because he has no right to say it. But Dylan does it anyways. "She's not you."

He might as well have stabbed me, because I know he means it—Dylan always means it. It's awful in the way he leans closer and breathes me in, like he's trying to make me feel guilty. It might be working. "Stop that."

Dylan leans in closer. "I'm just telling you the truth."

I turn my head away. "Well don't."

"You know, I still have your underwear," he whispers all soft and slow like it means something.

"Stop it," I hiss.

Dylan backs off of me. I press my back up against the lockers, so hard that it hurts. I snap my fingers counting to ten in my head.

"Dylan?" A voice says from my left.

My head automatically turns in the direction of the voice, only to see Tess Duran.

_Bitch._

Dylan straightens up. "Oh, hey Tess. Are you ready to go?"

She nods at him before sending me a look of absolute contempt. Then she puts on her fakest smile. "Oh Max. What were you doing talking to _my boyfriend_?"

It takes half a second for it to register in my head before I mentally vomit. _Why is he with that frigid bitch?_

Tess sidles up next to Dylan, wrapping her arms around him. I think she's trying to send me some sort of message, but I can't figure out what it is. I shrug. "I don't know; he came up and started talking to me—probably because I'm much more interesting than some people."

It takes her a few seconds to realize it's a jab at her. Clearly someone is not the brightest candle on the cake. She scoffs. "Please, you're anything _but_ interesting."

"I don't know," I say breezily, "he found me pretty interesting while we were fucking last year, and since he's still trying to talk to me, I doubt that's changed."

Tess stands there, fuming, while Dylan just looks shell shocked and nervous. His mouth is in a big _O_. I mentally pat myself on the back. Tess might as well have smoke coming out of her ears.

Whatever.

I fix the shoulder straps of my backpack. "Well, it's been a pleasure talking to you Tess," I say sarcastically, "but I have a life to go live and I'd prefer if you weren't part of it."

I start walking away, but she yells, "Yeah, well I'm busy with being the captain for soccer, track, volleyball, and being school president instead of you."

I turn around and send my fakest smile at her. "Isn't that cute; you're still trying to copy _everything _I did. You know what they say, Tess: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I'm flattered; I think I'm pretty awesome, too."

She probably looks gobsmacked, but I don't see it because I'm already down the hallway and I really don't care about stupid things like _Tess Duran_ because I have more important things to do with my life.

Besides, she's really helpful to my plan.

**Three**

Dr. Wyatt consults her notes. "So you had some sort of rivalry with this girl named Tess."

I roll my eyes. "Sort of."

I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, "Enlighten me."

"Well she always just wanted to have whatever I had. She always wanted my boyfriend, she wanted to captain the school teams I captained, she always tried to compete with my marks in school, and she always tried to make herself better than me. In a way, it was kind of obsessive, how much she cared about being better than me.

"Of course, she never was. I always came out over top of her, which really wasn't that surprising, but she was always looking for ways she could fuck me over. At first it was kind of adorable, like 'aw, she wishes she could be me', but then it progressively became annoying. She's also kind of a bitch. I'm just saying."

**Two**

For some reason, I have always loved the way the "refrigerated foods" aisle feels at the grocery store: it's cool and your skin gets goosebumps the second you turn into it, but I like it anyways. It's kind of refreshing.

"What kind of ice cream do you want?"

Fang looks aggravated as he rolls the shopping cart back and forth. I don't know why he's acting like this; you think he would be thankful that I'm helping him do his grocery shopping, but the second I ask for ice cream it's like I'm a nuisance. It's funny considering how five minutes ago he had no idea how to pick the right vegetables out of the produce section. I continue to stare through the glass refrigerator door. "Give me a second."

He groans. "You've been standing there for five minutes. How hard is it to choose an ice cream flavour?"

I fake a sigh of exasperation and turn to him, my hands on my hips. "Picking the right ice cream flavour is a serious art, and you've just broke my focus. I'm going to have to start all over again."

I give the ice cream my full attention while I can feel Fang giving me his best I-want-to-wring-your-neck-out vibes behind my back. I take extra long; just to piss him off a little more. I open the door and let the cool air hit my face for a second before I pull out a tub of plain chocolate ice cream.

I give Fang my cheekiest smile. "I done."

"I would kill you, except I like you too much," He mumbles as we make our way to the check out.

I grin. "I know."

He shoots me his signature half-smile—sort of like the guy version of the Mona Lisa smile—and reaches his hand down until it's touching mine and we're holding hands.

I don't like it.

I pull away suddenly and he leaves his hand slightly extended for a few moments before retracting and looking away. Because that's the kind of fucked-up, weird thing that happens when you're fucking the guy who used to be your best friend's boyfriend but he broke up with her to be with you and you aren't sure if you're together or what the hell you have because you're still fucking his best friend in secret. And he knows that it's okay for you to kiss and fuck, but you haven't told him if it's okay to do couple-y things like hold hands.

Pretty dysfunctional, to say the least.

He doesn't try to hold my hand again for the rest of the night.

**One**

"Your brother's friend just tried to rape me."

The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I feel...I feel...

I don't know what to feel. All I know is that I can't stop crying and I want the feeling of his hands to be washed off of my body. Forever. I'm shaking and I want to throw up it's awful and I'm terrified and I feel like I want to die because anything would be better than the way I feel right now. I want to lie to myself over and over until I forget.

_It didn't happen, it didn't happen, it didn't happen_

Except it did.

JJ's mouth is open in a perfect "O" and she's just staring at me. She glances down at my shorts which are still resting halfway down my thighs before her eyes make it back up to my tear stricken face. Her eyes are wide with disbelief. "What?"

The words that I had blurted out without a second thought earlier are harder to force out now. I don't want to say is anymore; it's already been said. I don't ever want to have to say it again. But JJ is there just waiting for me to speak, so I manage to choke out a weak, "Your brother's friend just tried to rape me."

"Oh, Max." Her arms encircle me tightly as she pulls me into a hug.

**Two**

"Maximum Ride to Guidance; she has an appointment."

The sudden intercom message from the office makes Mr. Tanyeard jolt awake up from his nap, nearly shitting himself in the process.

Up until that point, class had been unbelievably boring, even the teacher, Mr. Tanyeard, thought so because he decided to assign us pages to copy out of the chemistry textbook while he took a nap. Lazy, old fuck.

If I was him, I would probably do the same thing.

It takes him a few moments to respond. "Oh, um, yes. I'll send her down right away."

All the immature guys do that _oooooh, someone is in trouble_ thing that they always do and I roll my eyes. Mr. Tanyeard does, too. "Well Max, you don't need to be told twice. Get down there before they interrupt my nap again."

And I don't need to be told twice.

I walk into the guidance office with ease. The guidance counsellor, Ms. Aldren, is about as boring as a person can be. Everything about her seems watered down, like the dull colour of her eyes, skin, hair, and clothes. Although she always tries to look super enthusiastic, no one believes it. I step into her office to find her waiting there patiently.

The guidance office is a total pit. The walls are this chipped, pale blue that resembles the colour of Lissa's vomit that time she mixed Kool-Aid and vodka. There aren't any windows in here and some dumbass thought that fluorescents were a suitable substitute. Ms. Aldren is looking at me with those washed out, pale blue eyes and I can't help but feel really bad for her; she's stuck in this shit hole of an office and the only kids who come to visit her are psychotic drug users who are forced to be here and the crazy overachiever kids who are always trying to get extra credit.

I don't know. I'd just want to kill myself if I was her, that's all.

I sit down in the uncomfortable seat across from Ms. Aldren and try to act as if I'm a pleasant person. "Hey, Ms. Aldren. How are you?"

She looks worn out and tired, but she manages to smile. "I'm good, Max. How are you? Did you enjoy the winter break?"

I nod as if I have a _marvellous_ time. "Oh, yes. I got to spend a lot of time together with my family, and that's always nice."

If Ella heard this, she would probably die laughing. I'm having trouble keeping a straight face.

But Ms. Aldren acts as enthusiastically as she can—which isn't very enthusiastic at all—and grins. "That sounds lovely. I'm glad you had a good time. Now , the reason I called you in here is because of your drastic change in marks from last year to this year."

Shit fuck.

"You see," she continues, "last year you had impeccable marks but your average has dropped almost fifteen percent this year, and I was wondering if there was some sort of problem you were dealing with or if you were having issues at home."

I hate it when teachers think they have a right to interfere with your life. If a kid wants to fail, then why don't they just let them fail?

And worse, I need to think up a reason about why I'm not doing well in school that they'll accept so that they'll leave me alone forever because there are bigger fuck-ups in this school, like that girl who does blow in the girls' room every lunch period, and they should probably get people like _that_ into guidance.

So I use the best excuse I can think of. "I've been just having a lot of trouble this year, with my dad being gone. I'm making all these big life decisions and it's like I'm suddenly realizing how far away and distant he is. It's just been a few hard months. Classes are a lot harder this year, too. But I'm getting a tutor to help me out," Lie. "So I should be back to speed soon. I'll try _really_ hard this semester."

I even throw in an earnest nod. I deserve an Oscar; make way for me Meryl Streep.

Ms. Aldren accepts the answer, obviously. "I'm sorry about your father, Max. And I'm glad you're going to get back into working hard. Just remember that I'm always here to listen if you have any problems, okay?"

"Okay," I say, but she and I both know that I'm not coming back here to talk about my problems. Ever. No one ever does because no one ever actually wants to go to the guidance office.

I'm surprised Ms. Aldren hasn't already committed suicide.

**One**

"Oh, Max. What happened?"

"Your brother's friend just tried to rape me."

We're sitting on JJ's bed and she's rubbing my back to calm me down while I try to breathe normally.

"What _exactly _happened?" JJ prompts me.

It takes a few seconds for her words to sink into my brain and once they do I don't feel like answering to question. I can still feel his rough hands on me, touching me. Trying to force me. "JJ, he tried to rape me. I don't want to explain."

"Who was it?" JJ tries again.

I shake my head. "I don't know his name."

My whole body is racked with shivers. JJ sighs. "What did he look like?"

Hands all over. Ugly mouth, cruel eyes. Angry hands as he pushes me. "Blonde, almost white hair. Blue eyes. Pale skin, no freckles."

She reassuringly squeezes my shoulder, and I can't help but feel _safe_. JJ always makes me feel safe. At home. A look of concentration crosses her face before she sends me a sceptical look. "Max, none of my brother's friends fit that description. _None_."

I shrug my shoulders. "He'd said something about summer camp; maybe you've just never met him before."

JJ's not comforting me anymore. In fact, she's stepped away. "I'm pretty sure I would have met him if was close to my brother."

I'm breathing heavily, because I'm freaked because I don't know what the fuck she's trying to imply, but it's making me feel sick.

JJ freezes up for a moment. "Are you okay? Are you having a panic attack?"

"No!" I say quickly, "Godammit JJ, how could you bring up something like that right now when this is happening?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it just as quickly. And then her face twists in a way and her eyes widen as if something terrible has just dawned on her.

"I cannot believe you, Max."

**Two**

Iggy smells like springtime today. I get a good whiff of it as I bury my face into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"Mmm, you smell good," I mumble. "Like happiness."

Iggy shrugs. "I think my mom bought a new laundry detergent or something."

I shift in my spot. "How's she doing?"

Iggy looks down quietly before looking back up. "Okay, I guess. The doctor says it's not completely life threatening at the moment. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it. He says that she's going to need to go for a treatment though. Like, go to a special hospital out of the city. She's leaving in four days and I already miss her."

I slip my hand into his and give it a tight squeeze because even though he's trying to act all tough, I catch him blinking back tears. I lean into him. "You don't have to feel a thing."

And then he curls into me like a little kid and leans against my shoulder. "She says she's not afraid of death and that I shouldn't be afraid, but every time I think of her being gone, I can't...I just can't imagine living without her."

I rub small circles into his back and I don't know what to do because I can't begin to feel what he feels because there's a chance his mom could die and there isn't anything he can do about it.

"I don't know what I'd do if she died. How would I live?"

I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. "You'd go on, because you'd have to."

Just like we all do.

And I sit there with him, holding him, because this is when I like Iggy the best. Not because he's sad, but because we aren't fucking and it's totally platonic we're just in each other's company and that makes us feel better.

When it gets late, I slip my shoes back on and zip up my hoodie in silence.

Iggy hands me my car keys. "Please don't mention what's going on to anyone."

So I say those three words that mean the most. "I won't tell."

I open the door and I'm stepping out of the door, half-out, when Iggy grabs onto my hand and pulls me back. And then he says three words that mean ever more. Three awful words.

"I love you."

I don't stop at any intersections as I speed home, but before I can make it I have to pull over to the side of the road and throw up.

When I get back into the car ten minutes later, I can't feel a thing.

**Three**

Dr. Wyatt is consulting her notes while I close my eyes. My phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket. This is a surprise considering I don't have any friends left to text me. I pull it out.

_Hey. How's it going?_

It's Ella. Mom probably made her text.

I roll my eyes. _I'm fine._

I hit send and slip the phone back into my pocket, but it buzzes again ten seconds later. I ignore it, but it just keeps vibrating. Dr. Wyatt raises an eyebrow at me, like _are you going to answer them_, but I don't.

Ella's half the reason that I have to be here today.

**Two**

Iggy's blue eyes are clear and a playful smile is tugging at the edges of his lips. His pale cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair is slightly mussed from the wind. I take his coat from his hands and hang it up in the closet. He kicks off his shoes and places them neatly on the shoe tray.

"Where's the family at?" he glances around.

"Ella's at a sleepover and Mom's at a veterinary conference."

Looking at him makes me feel guilty. I'm quick to lead him upstairs and to the guest bedroom without a glimpse in his direction. When we get to the room I hurry to remove my clothes because the faster this is, the better. My school uniform is on the floor in less than twenty seconds. I carefully slip off the necklace that I always wear, the one with the shoe buckle, and I tentatively place it on the bedside table. Iggy's hands catch my wrists before I can pull off my underwear.

His eyes give me a quick once-over as he pulls me over to the bed. I hurriedly take to unbuttoning his shirt, and he rolls his eyes. "Would it kill you to slow down for half a second?"

I force a smile at him, and continue unbuttoning his shirt at lightning speed. He pushes me back and ties my hands over my head to the headboard with a pillowcase. I laugh, because only Iggy would try that. "Really?"

He shrugs, but his eyes are shining. "You were getting too quick with your hands."

So he kisses me, his hands trailing over my skin slowly, warm to the touch. I glance at the binder with Iggy's calculus homework, the newest trade-off. I try not to feel guilty as Iggy kisses across my jaw line and down my collar bone. He's slow and hesitant, and his fingers dance around the waistband of my panties like he's nervous, even though we've done this a million times.

He unzips his pants and they're on the floor and he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and then he's just there in his boxers; pale and vulnerable. He pushes the hair off of my face and breathes me in. He still smells like springtime and his eyes look extra blue. And I can't believe I'm doing this to him.

Because I should've run the second he'd said 'I love you' and I think I'm going to throw up again.

But then the feeling is gone.

He gets closer and his hands dip underneath the waistband of my underwear and this is the part where I always zone out, and I'm just waiting, waiting, waiting to check out—

"What the _fuck_ is going on?"

And the Iggy's off of me all of a sudden and there's a crashing a noise. I tilt my head up and Fang is there looking furiously at Iggy who is on the ground and Ella looks petrified in the doorway.

Fang looks like he's about to kill someone. "What the fuck, Jeff!"

Oh shit.

**One**

JJ is shaking her head with a sardonic smile on her face. "Max, I seriously can't believe that you would try something like this."

I'm confused as fuck. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She faces me with a cold stare. "We have a fight over you needing help, and you leave to come back five minutes later claiming someone tried to rape you so I would stop bothering you about the panic attacks? Really, Max? You're fucked. You're seriously fucked."

The air is knocked out of my lungs as it dawns on me; she thinks I made it all up. She doesn't believe that someone just tried to rape me and _oh my god._ "JJ, I'm not making this up—"

"Attempted rape isn't a joke. What is your problem, Max?"

He hands come up and push me hard. I step away. "I'm your best friend! Why won't you listen to me?"

She laughs mockingly. "Max, you _never_ listen to me. I knew you had problems, but the fact that you feel like you need to make something like this up—"

"I am not making this up!" I nearly scream because I can't handle my best friend not believing me, not now.

She rolls her eyes. "Please, my brother doesn't have _any_ friend's like that. Nice try though. I'm so _done_ with this bullshit."

"JJ you have to trust me on this, I'm not lying. _Please, _Jen."

But she has already pushed me out of her way and she's slamming the bedroom door behind her and just like that she's gone.

I stand there in her room, shell shocked.

**Two**

Fang is glowering at Iggy while Iggy glares back at him. "What the fuck is wrong with _you,_ Nick?"

Iggy is on his feet again as he brings his arms up and they slam into Nick's chest. Nick stumbles from the push. "Don't act like you weren't just about to fuck her."

Ella is gobsmacked and she's just staring, staring, staring. I try to get up only to remember that my wrists are tied to the bed. "Stop it, guys."

But they don't even hear me. Iggy shrugs. "Oh, I wasn't acting like anything; I _was_ about to fuck—"

He doesn't finish because Fang's fist is already slamming into his face. It's a hard hit, and Iggy goes sprawling on the ground. "What the hell, Nick!"

"You would have to try to fuck her, wouldn't you?" Fang's fist swings in again but Iggy dodges.

Iggy punches Fang, hard. "It's a bit beyond trying, bro." Fang lunges at Iggy, and Iggy shoots backwards out of Fang's reach. "What's your problem? It's not like she belongs to you."

Fang hits Iggy so hard that his head snaps back. "You keep your filthy fucking hands off of her."

Iggy's fist slams into Fang once, twice, thrice. Ella's still gaping like an idiot. I call out to her, "Come untie me, Ella."

But she doesn't move an inch; she doesn't even blink.

Fang crashes into Iggy and they both are on the ground. Fang's fists are flying at Iggy's face, and I'm thinking, _oh god, he's going to kill him_, and they're so stupid because I'm the one their supposed to be mad at, not each other. I'm yelling at them to stop, but neither one is listening to a word I say.

Fang doesn't stop. "Don't," Punch. "Fucking touch," Punch. "My girl," Punch. "I'm the only one who's allowed to fuck her."

His fist hits Iggy so hard, Iggy's head slams into the floor. Iggy wriggles out and flips Fang. "You're fucking her?"

The rage in his voice is impossible to miss. Iggy hits him so hard. They're both bleeding and furious and beating the shit out of each other while Ella is just standing there like she's either about to slit someone's throat or cry.

I had never expected everyone to find out, not like this. I couldn't have planned something like this if I had tried.

It's perfectly awful and awfully perfect at the same time.

Fang punches Iggy again and again and again and his eyes are so angry and hateful and Iggy isn't even fighting against him anymore and—_Fang's going to kill him if he doesn't stop._

I slip my wrists out—finally—and I tackle Fang to the ground before his fist can connect with Iggy again. Fang's so surprised that he stops moving and everyone is suddenly remembering that I'm here. Half naked.

"Stop it!" I yell at Fang. "Why the fuck are you punching him?"

He stares at me with angry eyes. "Care to explain why the _fuck_ he was in bed with you?"

Iggy looks up with heavy-lidded eyes. "_You're fucking him?" _ He spits at me as he sits up ready to punch Fang again, but then he pushes me. "What the hell, Max!"

"Hey!" I push him back. "We were strictly business and you _knew_ that Iggy, so don't act like I was doing something shady to you."

"Business?" Fang snarls, but I ignore it.

Iggy narrows his eyes. "Really, Max? Just business?"

He grabs onto my arm but Fang pushes him back. "Screw off Jeff. I can't _believe_ you would go after the girl I'm with—"

I hate this. They're best friends. This isn't working right; they're supposed to be mad at me, not each other.

So I cut in. "Actually, I was fucking Jeff first."

A gentleman never hits a girl. But Fang isn't a gentleman. He pushes me so hard that I slam into the wall. "Fuck off."

And then he's gone—out of the door, and Iggy doesn't take much longer to leave. "I can't believe you, Max."

And then I hear the front door slam and I'm there alone.

Except I'm not.

Ella's still there in the doorway. She's crying, but her glare in venomous. "You knew I liked him. You bitch."

And then she's gone out of the room and I run after her because although we don't get along anymore and we fight a lot, she's still my baby sister and she's hurt and she was never meant to see that. _Never._

"Ella, wait."

She doesn't wait. She slams her bedroom door in my face.

"Ella, let me—"

"Fuck off, Max!" She screams. "Christ Max, just _leave me the fuck alone_."

I stand there, and I stand there, and I stand there. Seconds, minutes, an hour goes by and I'm just standing there snapping my fingers. My fingers are sore and I want to stop but I can't.

I can't stop.

Still snapping, I walk back to the guest bedroom and pick up my clothes, but I don't put them back on. I slip the necklace back on. I wipe the blood off the floor and remake the bed so Mom doesn't know.

_Here I go again, covering up the mess I've made._

And what a fucking mess it is.

I go to the medicine cabinet and grab a half bottle of NyQuil. I walk back to my room and lie down in my bed.

And there I drink out the rest of the NyQuil and eventually fall asleep.

I don't want to get out of bed when I wake up. I want to lie here until I die.

Because even when I fuck up, I manage to do it perfectly

* * *

><p><strong>Whoa, there we go. <strong>

**Please review? **

**Question of the day: What's one (or you know, feel free to write more than one) of your favourite books? (I need good books to read).**

**My answer: **_**Looking For Alaska**_** by John Green (I think that's his name) and **_**The Perks of Being a Wallflower**_** by I-can't-remember-the-name. And, of course, anything from the **_**Percy Jackson and the Olympians**_** series. That's a completely incomplete list.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Why hello there!**

**Before you stone me to death for being so late with this chapter...at least give me a five second head start to run away. That's all I ask for.**

**To respond to non-signed-in-person-reviews because I haven't done that in forever:**

**Sofie: Please don't go crazy. Or do. Whatever floats your boat. Thanks for the review **

**Anonymous: Oh, your compliments make me blush. Thank you.**

**(Blank): Thanks bro**

**Ollietrombone: The reactions were so hard to write. And I write dark stories because... I don't know. I'm probably a deeply disturbed person.**

**Figure it Out: Thanks for your opinion, it is highly appreciated! I truly believe honesty is the best policy—even though your honesty contained several grammatical and spelling errors (btw "heart attack" is two words, not one, and is spelled with only 3 "T"s, not 5). Otherwise, I value your input.**

**Highlight of the Day: One of the little girls I coach for soccer told me I was pretty. It was the sweetest thing ever.**

**Random song lyrics (this is a new addition of whatever is stuck in my head—and hopefully relates to the chapter but probably won't): **_**In a city of fools I was careful and cool/but they tore me apart like a hurricane – Therapy by All Time Low**_

* * *

><p><strong>Three<strong>

"So when the two guys found out you we're sneaking around because their backs—"

"There was a freak out of epic proportions," I tell Dr. Wyatt.

She smiles a little bit. "And how exactly did they react?"

"They were _so _angry, it wasn't even funny. But they were even angrier on Monday when we returned to school."

Dr. Wyatt furrows her brow. "And why was that?"

**Two**

My day starts out shittier than normal, even for a Monday. I forgot to set my alarm last night so I wake up late this morning. When I get to the bathroom, my hair brush is gone. _Ella took it_. Again.

I look around the house so I can yell at her to give it back, but Ella's already gone. Weird. So I have to go into her room and steal hers instead. Ella's hair brush hurts my scalp whenever I use it.

I get dressed and brush my teeth and put on a little make up, whatever. Regular morning stuff.

Once I'm in the car, the heating in the shit box refuses to work, and the steering wheel is cold as ice. The check engine light is on, and the car is making this God awful noise like it's dying, but I have five minutes before class starts.

By the time I get to school, my hands are frozen and it actually hurts to peel them off of the steering wheel. There only parking spot left in the entire lot is the one at the very back, right next to the dumpsters. _Fuck my luck. _**(AN: AHAHAHAH that rhymes!)**

I get into the school with less than one minute to spare. All the kids are walking to make it on time for homeroom and I have to push against the crowd in order to go to my locker. I have my elbows up as I shove through everyone because there's something _so_ satisfying about the hardest part of my arm connecting with the softest part of everyone else's.

People are staring at me, but that kind of comes with being popular. Maybe they're so focused because I have toothpaste on my face or something.

It's normal.

I catch sight of Lissa, who is heading towards homeroom. Her red hair is extra shiny and straightened down her back. I smile at her, but when she sees me she pretends to be disinterested, rolls her eyes, and she walks away.

This is not normal. Normally Lissa would be smiling; if she were feeling particularly happy she would run over and hug me. She's a positive person like that.

And then it hits me; she's mad because...because...

Iggy and Fang didn't _tell_ her, right?

No, they wouldn't. They aren't the brightest crayons in the pencil case, but they aren't _that_ stupid.

It comes to me: she's upset that I blew her off all weekend and didn't return any of her calls—and she called me, like, ten times. Of course she would want to ignore me. This sort of thing doesn't happen too often, but it does occur every once in a while. I'll find her at lunch and we'll make up and everything will be alright again. It won't be fun, but it's completely do-able.

Right. This is totally normal. Everything is under control.

As I am approaching my locker, a crowd is formed in my way. They're all talking in hushed tones, "Oh my God, can you believe it?", like morons, but the second they catch sight of me, they all fall silent. This is so stupid. What's the big fucking deal? And you'd think they'd know how to _get the fuck out of my way_ by this point in their little lives.

Apparently not.

I swiftly elbow them away because they're wasting my time and then I suddenly understand what they were all talking about because the word is right there in big, black letters, standing out against the plain white locker. And I comprehend Lissa ignoring me. And the stares. And the whispers. I do a double take, but the results are the same.

_**WHORE**_

I don't believe it.

My fingers are drawn up to the spray-painted word, and my index finger touches it, and comes back black. I swipe my entire hand across the word; it's wet enough to smudge but dry enough to remain completely legible. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Ever.

_One of them told_.

Everyone is watching me, waiting to see what I'll do—will I melt down, will I cry, will I punch someone in the face?—it's annoying. I hate it when I'm the center of attention; I hate it when people are focused on me.

"Did you really fuck _both _of them? Which one was better?" Some idiot yells out, before laughing obnoxiously. Everyone's just waiting for me to react, so I do the best thing I can do:

I don't care.

I act like I'm not freaked out and angry and I open my locker with ease. I pull my textbooks out, I shut it, and I walk away.

As I'm leaving the crowd, I wipe the black paint from my hand onto some gossipy freshman who's watching and I don't look back.

I can feel people's eyes on my back as I walk away extra fast. My fingers are snapping at lightning speed and _omg I can't breathe_.

I'm practically running as I reach the washroom and I lock myself in the nearest stall, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

_Breathe, just breathe goddammit._

My windpipe feels like it has contracted to a width of one millimetre and my head is spinning. I tuck my head between my knees and gasp for air.

I've spent all my life trying to avoid anyone seeing anything wrong with me. Never in my life have I been called something as bad as a whore. _Never. _Years and years of self-preservation and careful, good behaviour so no one would ever realize that I was anything less than perfect.

Seventeen years of precision to being perfect, simple ruined over one weekend.

_Get it together, Max._

I feel my heart-rate slow down, the sign that that panic attack is really over and I take deep breaths.

I'm eight minutes late to homeroom, and my teacher doesn't look impressed. "Why exactly are you late, Miss Ride?"

The entire class knows. They're focused on me, more focused than they've ever been while sitting in this classroom. They all sit up in their seats, waiting for the response in anticipation.

I answer as coolly as possible, my face stoic. "Someone vandalised my locker. You might want to check it out, considering that I'm supposed to report _this_ sort of stuff to you. In fact, you could probably catch the culprit on the security camera footage from this morning."

And I sit in my seat in the middle row like it's not a big deal.

It's a big deal. No one would usually have the nerve to write something like that on someone's locker, especially if they're considered to be one of the popular kids.

I remind myself that I don't care.

Girls in the seats around me are whispering about how Max Ride is a _bitch slut whore cunt skank _and _omg can you believe she would do that_? Everywhere I go, someone is saying something. Girls I've never even talked to before roll their eyes at me and say I'm 'such a bitch'. I act like I don't hear it as I make my way through the halls.

The entire time, I feel dizzy. I think I'm going to throw up.

I normally sit next to Fang in second period, English, but his fierce glare tells me to find a new spot. Fine. I pretend to be completely absorbed by the lesson about moral themes in Hamlet. In actuality, I'm still having trouble breathing. _I don't care what everyone is saying, I don't care._

Maybe if I think it enough, I'll believe it.

I wish people wouldn't be so obvious with their staring.

"Hey Nick, is she _really _the 'maximum ride'?"

That catches my attention. My head swivels enough to see Fang glaring at the guy who'd asked, Gary Thomson. Gary sees me looking, and grins. "Hey Max, I didn't know you got around so much. You might as well have a sign on your vagina saying 'proceed with caution'."

I turn to face the front of the classroom and I'm shaking in my seat, I'm so angry. I'm so angry because everything they're saying is true.

Gary's voice rings out from the back of the classroom. "Well it looks like Maximum Perfect isn't so perfect after all."

That hits like a stab wound.

_Well at least everyone knows the truth._

**One**

_She doesn't believe me_.

I'm lying on JJ's bed, but it's just starting to hit me, full on.

_My best friend doesn't believe me_.

My head is spinning and I pillowcase is stained from crying. I feel sick.

If my best friend doesn't believe me, then who else would?

And what would people think if they knew? No one would ever look at me the same way ever again.

_I wouldn't be perfect anymore_.

And that is the most terrifying part of it all. Years upon years of self-preservation in the public eye. Never letting anything go wrong. Always maintaining perfection. I can't let that go.

_I can't tell anyone what happened._

**Two**

When lunch starts I don't know what to do. I go back to my locker and open it, pretending I don't see the paint and I pull out my lunch, but as I open a granola bar I just stare at it, but I can't eat it. I just can't, not with the way everyone is looking at me. I push my lunch back into my locker.

And then I'm on a mission; a mission to see which idiot told everyone.

When I walk through the halls, people look and whisper and it takes all of my self-control not to tell them to go fuck themselves.

_Breathe Max, breathe._

I snap my fingers slowly as I glance around the halls. They have to be somewhere.

Iggy's the easiest to find, what with him sticking out like a sore thumb. Once I catch sight of reddish/blonde hair by the library I know it's him. He looks even more pale than usual and some guys are sticking around him, laughing, although it's clear that Iggy would like them to go away.

Before I know what I'm doing I've grabbed his arm and I'm dragging him into an empty classroom.

"You guys going to do it at school, too? Kinky, Max."

I pretend I don't hear him and close the classroom door. Iggy is glaring at me so fiercely I almost wince. Almost.

But then I remember that someone told everyone at the school about what happened andwith the rate the news is spreading the teachers will know soon and _oh my god, what will happen if my mom finds out?_

That thought is enough for me to push him. Hard. "Who did you tell?"

Iggy scowls. "No one."

"Well I know Nick didn't tell," I lie, waiting for Iggy to crack and say something.

He pushes me back. "Well you're wrong, because _I_ didn't tell. God Max, why the hell do you think I would?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't know, maybe because you were mad—"

"Do you think I wanted this?" He snaps, getting in my face. "Everyone talking shit about us? Everyone knowing that you were two-timing me? It's _embarrassing_. It's like I wasn't good enough for you so you had to go sneak around my back with someone else. Do you know how that feels?"

I'm taken aback because I hadn't thought about it that way. Iggy's face is red with anger and it hadn't occurred to me that his pride would keep him from telling.

I guess I underestimated the whole "alpha-male" thing guys have.

"We were strictly business; you knew that," I respond levelly, although I'm feeling kind of shaky. I've never seen Iggy so angry before.

"_No_, we _weren't_, Max," Iggy growls. "You know _that_. You're so full of it."

For a second I'm lost for words, but it passes. "We had a business agreement."

He laughs sardonically. "Don't give me that shit. If we were strictly business then you wouldn't have come over those nights when I just needed a person there. You know that."

I open my mouth to speak, but then I shut it again. I refuse to say that word. I _refuse._ There's no way in hell I'm saying sorry.

That would ruin everything.

Iggy rolls his eyes. "Fine, keep denying it."

"You know what? You're right," I say finally. "But it doesn't matter anyway."

"So you're telling me you didn't feel anything at all? For me, I mean."

I glance up at Iggy's eyes and although they're angry and hateful, I can still see this desperate look in them, this slight bit of hope. He shouldn't do this to himself.

I cringe inwardly because I don't deserve for him to still care about what I think and what I feel. If I say no, I hurt him. If I say yes...

He doesn't deserve this from me.

"Nothing at all. I used you Iggy, don't you see that?"

I hate saying this. But I owe it to him. _Sever all ties; it's for the better._

I feel like running away, but then I would be a coward so I stay there and watch his expression fall and see just how hurt he is.

It's my fault. It's always my fault.

And it's always fabulous the way I fuck people over.

I'm out of the classroom before I can so something stupid, like apologize.

That would be unfair to him.

**Three**

Dr. Wyatt is strangely quiet from a few minutes. I'm hoping this means I'm going home.

I absent-mindedly pick at the lint on my hoodie as I wait for her to say something. I have a pizza sauce stain on my sleeve. Huh. I haven't eaten pizza for three weeks.

Maybe _that's_ why my sweater smells so bad.

"Max, how did it feel to have everyone turn against you so quickly?" Dr. Wyatt says suddenly.

I shift in my seat. "I don't know. I guess I didn't really care."

She gives me this look because she knows I'm lying.

I sigh. "I'd never been very good at handling change. I guess I just shut down my emotions and tried to pretend that nothing bothered me."

Dr. Wyatt smoothes over her jeans. "It bothered you a lot thought, right?"

I shrug and look away. I don't want to answer this one.

**Two**

Fang is more of a challenge. I search every inch of the school but he's nowhere to be found.

Huh. He might as well be invisible.

He's not in the cafeteria, he's not in the library, he's not in the hallways, he's not in the gym, he's not hiding out in a classroom, he's not outside the school eating on the front lawn, he's not even hiding in the janitor's closet. I come to the conclusion that he's probably gone away from the school for lunch to avoid everyone, but even then there are always people from school in the only fast food joint within reasonable distance from the school.

And that's when it hits me.

I wind my way through the vacant halls—it's a nice day and almost everyone is eating outside—until I reach the door to the back of the parking lot and make my way outside. The area is deserted, and there's that one spot that would be perfect to make out in because no one could see you there if they tried.

"Fang."

I was prepared to yell at him for blabbling to the whole world, but now face-to-face to him, I'm frozen.

My stupid brain can't even function.

Maybe—hopefully—I'm dying, like I'll just suddenly drop dead and then I won't have to deal with any of this drama.

I wait a few seconds, but I have no such luck.

He peers up at me before scowling. "I have absolutely nothing to say to you."

Then he looks away as if this encounter is of no interest to him. That's enough to make my brain start working again. "Why the fuck did you tell everyone?"

He just gives me this look before turning away.

_Asshole._

"Wow, okay. I know you're mad and everything, but you don't need to act like this," I'm practically spitting the words out.

Maybe I did spit a little. On him.

He wipes his face off. "I didn't. Happy? Leave me alone."

He's lying. I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, it's the truth," He says, but his eyes are focused far away. I know him though; the tightness of his jaw and the narrowed concentration of his eyes are give-aways for how upset he really is. "You're a bitch."

"Is _that_ why you told?" I ask. Because I know Iggy didn't tell; Iggy couldn't lie to save his life. Fang could probably convince someone that he was a unicorn, the way he lies.

"Why, are you angry?" Fang rolls his eyes.

He's being an asshole and I don't have time for this, I just want a confession so I can kick his ass. "Yes. Very. I can't _believe_ you would go tell everyone. Everyone is talking about it."

By now I'm snapping my fingers to keep myself under control. _Snap one, two, three._

Fang shakes his head sardonically. "Always the victim, aren't you? Do you even realize how fucking ridiculous this is? If anything, you should be _apologizing_ to me right now. That was shady shit you pulled. You're so goddamn selfish, Max. You always have been."

He's on his feet and he's in my face like he's ready for a fight. I want a fight.

_Go ahead, hit me_, I think. _Hit me hard. Make it hurt._

But he doesn't. "For a while, I thought you were different. That you'd changed. That you weren't the same self-centered bitch that you always had been before. And it's so stupid, because it's so like you to do this. It's not enough to make yourself miserable, but you have to do it to everyone else around you."

I feel like the air has been knocked out of my lungs because no one has ever had the gall to talk to me like this. At least, not anyone important.

I can barely breathe, I feel like I'm going to throw up. I open my mouth but no words will come out.

"But you like this, don't you? Everyone hating you? You _love_ it. Because you're a masochist. You're never happy unless you're miserable."

His words cut me because he's the only person who could see me this clearly. Know me this well without knowing anything at all.

I want to tell him that he doesn't understand what happened, what _really_ happened. I want to cry, and if I felt like being funny about it, I would congratulate him for being the first to figure me out.

But I don't. Instead I stay perfectly still. Nonchalant. "Did you tell?"

"No," he says sturdily. His face is slightly flushed, but other than that he's stoic. He gives nothing away.

"Okay, then."

And I really do believe it.

I spin on my heels and head back towards the school. Because I know who actually told. It's so obvious I can't believe it didn't come to me sooner. The worst part is I know exactly where to look.

All three of them are sitting at the reading circle, as if they're a _I Hate Max_ club, or something. Lissa sits in between them and she's laughing about something one of them said.

Well isn't that just _special_ for them.

I march over with determination. Everyone nearby falls silent in anticipation because they know this is going to be a show, and they have front row seats. I wish they wouldn't watch.

"Not only does someone rat me out, but it happens to be my _sister_. Wow. So much for family ties."

She's sitting there with this look on her face like she's completely disgusted, but I find it kind of hilarious how fast she was to take my place before anyone knew it was there to be taken. Ella always wanted to be popular, and she hated that I was.

This must be so pleasant for her.

I narrow my eyes before continuing. "And that spray paint job? So _original_. I mean, no one's ever tried _that_ before."

I'm forcing myself to play it cool. In honesty, I can't believe this is happening. A year ago, Ella and I were friends; well, at least we got along. We had each other's backs. Now she hates me, which I guess is mostly my fault, but it still makes me so, so sad.

My own baby sister has turned against me. Everyone else just followed her.

Ella, Lissa and Tess all give me a look of total disdain like I expect them to. Lissa's face is becoming increasingly red by the second. "Max, the fact that you have the nerve to show your face here after everything says so much about how you're a bitch."

Well don't try to soften the blow, Lissa.

She takes a deep breath. "I mean that night after he broke up with me, you had the gall to act like you had no idea why, you _slut._ How long did you think it was going to take before I found out?"

My heart is racing in my chest, but I refuse to let it show. My fingers are itching to snap but I won't let them, I can't. Not now. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of watching me break down. Everything inside of me just wants to give in, but then I remember that necklace on my neck, weighing me down. I can't back out now, I owe it to them.

So I put on my poker face. _I don't care._ "Um, never? You aren't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, Lissa. I probably could've gone on forever without you catching on."

Gobsmacked—that's her expression. I think she was expecting me to cry or do something weak like that. Or even worse, _beg_ for her to forgive me.

No.

Never.

Her face twists up in anger. "You stupid, stupid whore. You were supposed to be my best friend, Max. Why would you? How long were you with him?"

I cough. "You probably don't want to know that. I'm saying that for your benefit."

"How. Long." She grinds out the words as if she's raging, but her voice sounds like it's about to break.

For once, I tell the truth. "It actually started at Ella's birthday party. You got really smashed so Nick and I took you home and Nick invited me to his place, gave me shots until I was incoherent and then we were fucking."

She lunges at me, as if to rake me with her nails, but Tess holds her back. Lissa is crying.

I hate it when she cries.

"I hate you," she chokes out, "I hate you _so_ much. You took him away from me, and I _loved_ him."

I want to tell her that her definition of love is probably a bit askew, but using my better judgement decide that it's not a good time. I roll my eyes. "What do you want me to do? Un-fuck him?"

People watching the spectacle gasp. I force myself not to glance in their direction.

Lissa looks somewhat thoughtful for a moment—she hardly ever looks thoughtful since she hardly ever thinks—before sending me this awful, heart-breaking stare. "Apologize."

I wasn't expecting that. I'm so caught off guard that it takes me a second to compose a snarky response. "Okay; I'm sorry that your boyfriend liked me better than he liked you."

"Oh shit," some stupid guy says from somewhere to my left.

Lissa doesn't know what to say, she's bawling her eyes out. Everyone immediately at her side to comfort her because everyone likes Lissa. And now I'm the public enemy.

"You're such a fucking _bitch_, Max," Ella spits at me. She's almost shaking, she's so mad with me. My baby sister. I'm going to cave.

_Don't cave._

I'm so going to throw up. I steel my nerves for a few seconds as I formulate a response. "Ellie bear, are you still mad over that whole Jeff thing? Because, to be honest, I did you favour."

She glares at me harshly, and it's so fierce I feel like I've taught her well. "You're delusional."

"No, _you _are," I snap back. "Ella, did you really think that by doting Jeff from afar that one day he would just wake up and suddenly notice you? You didn't even _try_ to talk to him so how did you expect him to ever go after you? Eventually he was going to go for someone else."

Her hands are up fast and she's pushing me. Hard. Hard enough that I have to take a step back. "Go fuck yourself."

I smirk. "You're only upset because it's true."

Ella makes the face, the one that shows that she's going to cry soon. _Fuck_. "Shut up, Max."

Her voice is cracking and I'm just waiting for the tears.

Tess is making her way over to me to yell at me about something even though she has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the situation. She opens her mouth to spew an arsenal of insults at me but I don't hear it; I'm already gone.

I'm walking away with fast steps. The crowd jeers at me from over my shoulders but their words don't register in my head, I can't even think. I don't acknowledge a single person I pass as I storm down the hallway.

"Max? Max? Max?"

He has to grab me before I come to attention. He's saying something over and over but I can't understand.

"Max, are you okay?" Sam's voice finally breaks through my hazy panic. He's looking at me all cautiously, as if I'm a bomb in danger of exploding if not handled right. He's not smiling but he's not glaring; is he angry with me like everyone else? I don't think so. But he's not my friend either.

"I'm fine."

He lets me go and I'm off again.

I'm pacing. The bathroom is quiet and no one is here to bother me. Back and forth, I'm snapping my fingers in a careful rhythm. My steps are quick and make a small slapping noise against the tiles.

_Get yourself together, Max._

I will myself to do it as I slow my breathing. I can feel my head clearing slowly and my heart rate calming. My fingers are snapping at lightning speed.

Two sophomores walk into the bathroom, but freeze as soon as they catch sight of me.

_Leave me alone._

And they do.

Everyone does.

Two days later the drama has quieted. People have stopped staring at me and bothering me and they have taken a new approach: they all leave me alone.

I am officially a social untouchable. No one speaks to me, no one looks at me.

It's wonderful because I can finally express how much I really cannot stand the people I'm surrounded by on a daily basis. Being exclusively ignored has turned into a blessing.

I'm sitting outside behind the school in my new favourite hiding spot, the one where Fang and I last argued. It's perfectly quiet as I close my eyes. Everyone hates me; this is a good thing—it helps with the plan. My fingers brush the shoe buckle on the necklace for confirmation; yes, this is what I want.

What I _really_ want.

And there's no going back now.

**One**

At some point I muster the strength to pull myself off of JJ's bed. I wash the tear-stains off my face fix my makeup. I'm so mad, I'm in a rage.

_Don't let anyone know what happened; act normal._

I take a few deep breaths and I try to forget what happened earlier and I focus on being mad at JJ.

It takes a few minutes to find it, but eventually I pull the dress out from the back of her closet. It's purple and close-fitting and low-backed, hugging my shape perfectly. It is JJ's favourite, but we both know it looks better on me and it kills her.

I pull out a pair of heels and slip them on while running my fingers through my hair to make sure it's all in place. I check myself in the mirror before I walk out. I don't look normal. I look much better. No one will know.

I step out of JJ's room, the music is already going and I'm strutting down the stairs, ready for anything.

The party has begun.

**Finito.**

**I sincerely apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to write this. And it's not even my best. So feel free to hate on me (preferably in the form of a review).**

**Question of the day: Would you rather live one amazing day and spend the rest of your life having bad days OR have a life full of just average days?**

**I think I would prefer the average days. Just because it seems more tolerable.**


End file.
